


The Breath Goes Now

by cairn



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Harada is a meddler, Oops, Slow Burn, This was supposed to be two pages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-05-24 03:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14947046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cairn/pseuds/cairn
Summary: "Chizuru had tried to ignore the feeling of something blossoming in her, something dainty and dangerous."Or: Saito, with a touch more romance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please be warned - this is long, though it was originally going to be only two pages (…if you can believe that). It is basically a reworking of Saito's route in which Chizuru is not being pursued by the demons; everything else is canon. I apologize for the occasionally odd chapter breaks; they're odd because this was originally meant to be an incredibly long one-shot before I realized that was effectively impossible. Please, please, be patient and see it through. While it is slow burn (because, of course, it's Saito), I would like to think the ending is worth it.
> 
> Dull sublunary lovers' love   
>    (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit   
> Absence, because it doth remove   
>    Those things which elemented it. 
> 
> But we by a love so much refined,   
>    That our selves know not what it is,   
> Inter-assured of the mind,   
>    Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss. 
> 
> Our two souls therefore, which are one,   
>    Though I must go, endure not yet   
> A breach, but an expansion,   
>    Like gold to airy thinness beat.
> 
> \- John Donne, "A Valediction Forbidding Mourning"  
> 

Chizuru had known, in those first few seconds, that her first glimpse of him would never leave her. Her breath - her words - had caught in her throat at his appearance, and at his sword tearing through the flesh of the Furies as though he sliced through air without hindrance. 

For her first impressions of him had been: dark hair, dark eyes. Blood clinging to his clothing like a veil, strips of red cutting through the regular blue and white patterns of his clothing. Cold words spoken with a blank expression. His face had been impassive - walled off, enclosed. Her first thought, coming from a mind addled with fear, shock, and the blatant disconnect between the entire rest of her life and those moments had been that he resembled the image she had always assigned to the yurei her childhood friends had claimed existed somewhere in the woods beyond their little houses in Edo: pale, silent, threatening. She could have believed he stalked the forests at night, silent, making his prey flee before him.

He had been terrifying, after all. And while the blood had disappeared from his clothing, Chizuru had still taken a while to reconcile the quiet, logical man with the yurei she imagined as a vengeful spirit. Through conversations, through his silent post at her door during her early stay, she had gradually relaxed enough to converse with him normally. All the same, Saito was distant, and as she began to form natural rhythms in her life at the Shinsengumi headquarters, he rarely appeared into any of them.

Indeed, the first time she had seen Saito and spoken to him because he had sought her out was when he had arrived at the kitchen door while she was preparing dinner one day early on in her stay.

He had entered silently while she had been carving fish for soup. It had been chilly that day, unusually so for the spring, cold after a rainstorm the day before, and Chizuru had decided upon soup for the night's dinner. Broth was simmering above the fire, but she was wrestling with the fish, had been peppered with scales up to her elbows, when Saito's words almost made her cut herself in surprise.

"Yukimura."

"Oh!" She had turned immediately, still holding the knife and the piece of fish she had just cut off. 

Saito's hand had instantly grasped her wrist still holding the knife. "Be careful. Don't swing that around."

She had frozen, partly because of the way his eyes bored into hers, and partly because of his iron grip on her wrist. "Oh, Saito-san - I-I am so sorry, I wasn't thinking!"

"It's fine." He had released her wrist after she had slowly lowered the knife. His dark eyes had surveyed the kitchen. "You are busy."

"W-Well," Chizuru had stuttered, looked at the broth and the pile of half-emboweled fish. "Um, I think so."

Saito had nodded. "I see. I will not ask a favor of you, then."

"Oh!" Chizuru had quickly replaced the fish and the knife on the small table before her. "No, please, I can help." 

"I merely wished for tea." Saito turned, opened a drawer and rummaged for a pot. "However, I am more than capable of acquiring it myself."

"Oh, please, let me." Chizuru had reveled in the sudden opportunity to be useful, especially to one of the captains who had been less willing to talk with her. While Harada and Nagakura had bantered alongside her in the kitchen once or twice, and Heisuke had made himself 'useful' by helping her cook a few times, Saito was one of the captains who - while he did not necessarily avoid her - did not speak to her unless spoken to. 

Saito had stepped back and let her take over. She had noticed, even while partly busy (for she had made tea so many times before that it was mostly intuition), that he had carefully inspected her job on the fish.

"It - It is cold outside today," she had tried, hanging the pot above the fire alongside the broth. "Tea is always good on a colder day."

"Yes." Saito had agreed with her quietly. She had turned to him and was surprised to find his eyes on her. She had noticed, then, that his eyes were softer than she had first realized. That he was actually closer to her height than she had thought, originally, when the stench of blood clinging to his clothing had made him seem larger than life. That, somewhere below his scarf and his impassive expression, his lips could almost form a small smile.

"Y-You like tea, then?" Chizuru had attempted conversation once more, and almost immediately regretted the words. 

But Saito had smiled, and the realization of the small smile on his face made her regret disappear. "I do. It is good after a patrol on such a day."

"Yes!" Chizuru had smiled fully at that, had picked up the knife again to continue de-boning fish. "I agree."

They had stood quietly in the kitchen for several minutes while the water heated to a boil. Saito's eyes had been trained on her hands, and Chizuru, very aware that the swordsman was carefully watching, had been all the more precise with her de-boning. When the bubbling on the stove grew louder, she put down the knife again to pour the water and steep the tea.

"You are rather skilled," Saito had said suddenly, while she poured the tea into a cup she had laid out for him. She had jumped again, having grown used to his silence, and this time almost burned herself instead of cut herself. 

"Y-You s-surprised me," Chizuru said, more to explain her sudden jolt than to reprimand him.

"My apologies. I merely meant to compliment your work." When she turned to look at him, he was eyeing the fish. He nodded at her. "I see your training with the sword is useful here as well."

"Um," Chizuru said, thinking of the way her hands had ached after he had hit her sword from her hands, and feeling altogether unworthy of compliments. "I… Th-Thank you."

"I should thank you." Saito nodded at the cup of tea. 

"Oh," Chizuru said quickly. "It should be - I mean, it is ready now. H-Here." 

She had carefully passed the cup to him, and he had half bowed in gratitude. "Thank you."

"N-No. I - It's my pleasure." Chizuru had smiled again at him, and had been rewarded with a small change in expression on his face - the smallest look of surprise, which had morphed into a look she was hesitant to call gratitude.

It had become a ritual of sorts - just like how she went on patrols occasionally, or how Kondo-san snuck her konpeito every few weeks. Every once in a while, when the weather was cold, or it had rained, or (at times) seemingly randomly, Saito would appear in the kitchen and ask her for a favor. And each time, Chizuru was all too happy to comply. 

Once, he had walked in to the water already simmering on the fire, with the deep green, flaky tea he most appreciated ready to be steeped, he had stopped in the doorway. She had laughed, actually, at the look on his face - to see the veneer of impassiveness cracked by shock. And then he had made a weird cough, a kind of half-laugh, and she had flushed, felt her veins course with joy and an odd sense of triumph at his mouth almost smiling once again. 

That day, while she had poured him tea, he had removed another cup from their cabinet, and had set it before her alongside the cup she poured him.

"Are you drinking with someone?" Chizuru had asked, surprised. When she'd looked at him at his lack of response, he had nodded once. She had nodded back at him. "I see."

After she had poured the cup and picked them both up to offer to him, he had taken one and refused the other. 

"It's yours," he had said, and the words, and his eyes on her, had made Chizuru's stomach tighten oddly, caused the heat of blood to rise in her cheeks. 

"O-Oh," she had said, fumbling for words. "I - I see. Thank you."

He had nodded. "It is chilly today. Don't get sick."

"Right," she had said, and though she had expected him to leave to sit somewhere on the balcony outside, he had instead stood in the kitchen as though waiting for her. 

Chizuru had coughed lightly. "Um, y-you…" 

Saito's eyebrows had raised a fraction of an inch, but his expression did not change otherwise. Chizuru had flushed deeper, had been entirely uncertain how to tell him he did not need to wait for her, that she was fine drinking tea alone in the kitchen.

"Are you coming outside, Yukimura?" Saito asked flatly. 

Chizuru blinked. "O-Oh." 

Saito had waited another second before Chizuru had realized he was waiting for more of a response. "Oh! Yes - yes, um, of course." 

They had sat on the edge of the veranda, and though the weather was indeed chilly and the balcony's wood damp from the earlier rain, Chizuru had been warmed through, as though she had been sitting in front of a brazier instead of in front of one of the small enclosed gardens in the Shinsengumi headquarters. She remembered wondering if one of the captains was going to come across them, or if they would get in trouble, but no one had. For a few minutes - for surely it could not have been more than that - it was as if they were alone with only the sky and tea for company. 

"You should remember to rest every once in a while," Saito had said to her as she had gotten up, tea finished, to return to making dinner. She had paused, half-turned. He was still looking at the garden. 

"I - I rest," Chizuru had said, more because she was not sure what else to say.

He had looked at her, and she had stopped at his expression - the way his eyes were slightly soft when they met hers. "I'm glad."

"R-Right," she had said, red rising in her face again. "Thank you for worrying about me, Saito-san."

Saito had nodded, and when she turned to glance back in his direction, she could see him take another sip of his tea.


	2. Chapter 2

When winter came, blanketing the early mornings in white frost, Chizuru found a haori resting over the small stool she sat on when she ground rice for flour. Surprised, but unwilling to utilize someone else's clothing (despite the chill, and the way her hands had begun to crack in the cold and dry air), she had resolutely ignored it until Harada, having finished his early morning patrol, had appeared in the doorway.

"It's freezing today, isn't it, Chizuru?" 

"Y-Yes, Harada-san, unfortunately." Chizuru tried to smile up at him, but could feel the chill settling in her arms and legs and making her movements stiff even despite the fire crackling above the porridge she was cooking for breakfast. 

"Ah." Harada had noticed the black cloth folded on the stool before him. "Good, I'm glad someone thought to get you a haori."

"I-It's not mine, Harada-san," Chizuru said, but her quick glance at it was not unnoticed by Harada.

"Mm." He picked it up, unfolded the simple black fabric to survey it. His eyes widened. "Oh, I know this - it's Saito's."

"Oh." Chizuru straightened slightly over the fire. "Will you please tell him he left it here, Harada-san, if you'll see him before breakfast?"

Harada had looked at her in slight surprise, a smile unfolding on his lips. "Hah, Chizuru, I don't think he forgot it here. Saito doesn't forget things, really."

"Oh," Chizuru had said in confusion. She remembered wondering if Saito had left the haori because he planned to get tea from her later, had made a note to herself to get water ready for tea sometime in the afternoon.

"He probably left it for you." The smile playing on Harada's lips made Chizuru slightly uncomfortable, but she couldn't place a finger on exactly why. "Trust Saito to think of things like this, though." 

"I… I see." Chizuru had eyed the haori as Harada replaced it on the stool. "Harada-san, are you sure - do you think he won't miss it?"

Harada had grinned at her. "Chizuru, put it on. No one wants you freezing to death out here."

"I'll… I'll have to thank him," Chizuru had said, hands skimming the haori hesitantly, marveling at the warmth of it - though the fabric was simple, it had been thick and would be warm. But how? She had no way of repaying him for this. Tea was such a simple thing, drunk daily by the captains. Perhaps she should not wear it then, and return the gift she had no repayment for.

Harada had hummed lowly in response, but Chizuru didn't notice when he left. She had stood grasping the haori until the warning bubble of the porridge alerted her that she had forgotten to stir for quite some time. 

After calming the porridge, she had returned to the black fabric pooled on the chair before carefully - almost surreptitiously - pulling it on. It had smelled of… what she had supposed must have been Saito: something like wood fire and winter nights. Perhaps he had worn it by a brazier, once, guarding the headquarters. Chizuru had felt guilty, then, for taking it from him, whose job was far more important than hers. But it had been warm, and its sleeves had gone over her hands that were chapped from the cold, and (though she never would have admitted it to herself) the smell had been pleasant. She had, of course, removed it when she had gone to serve breakfast to the captains, at the thought of Harada's small smile dancing on his face, and how she could imagine Okita's being all the more predatory. And she had decided to return it to him, for she could not repay such kindness.

"You must be cold." 

"Oh my goodness!" Chizuru had jumped, but an arm from her left had reached out and stabilized the array of bowls from breakfast she had been carrying. "Saito-san."

Saito had easily removed the top half of the bowls and had walked alongside her. Chizuru had flushed, thinking of his haori. She had carefully folded it before leaving, but now the man was here.

"S-Saito-san," she had tried, but to her surprise, he had cut her off.

"You need another layer." 

"Um, th-that's what I'm trying to, um, to say," Chizuru had said, still unsure how she was going to end the sentence.

"So you saw it?" Saito had paused while she kept going to duck inside the small kitchen. She had unloaded what she had been carrying onto the counter hurriedly so she could properly bow.

"I - Yes, I did. Harada-san told me it was yours."

"It is for you." Saito, too, had laid the bowls he had carried into the room on the counter. Though she looked at him, his face was still the same as ever - it had a flatness to it, a glacier-like stillness. "It will likely frost again tomorrow."

"Saito-san, thank you so much for your kindness," Chizuru had said, bowing deeply. She had known the moment had been odd, but telling him that she was very grateful for his kindness had been immensely important to her. "But I - I do not know if I can accept - accept your generosity. It's yours, and I'm sure you need it."

When she had straightened, his expression was no different. "You should not thank me, then."

"What?" she had asked, thrown off. Should she apologize? Thank him again? Before she could decide, he had moved.

"Take it." Saito had handed it to her with both hands, politely. 

Chizuru flushed, feeling more guilty than ever. "I - but, Saito-san, I am sure that you need it - after all, I am here with the fire, and you are outside patrolling. I - I am not -"

"Take it." Saito had taken a step forward so that the fabric almost brushed her. "I do not need it." 

"But…" Chizuru had looked at the black fabric, and remembered how warm it had been. Had tried to hide the longing from her face. 

"Chizuru, I will be upset if you do not accept it." 

Chizuru jolted upright. Oh, no. "Oh, Saito-san, please forgive me. I am really, really grateful. But I just…"

"Chizuru," the man had said. His eyes were dark, but in them she saw something warm. She had felt her resistance crumbling along with the frigid breeze sweeping in the room from outside.

"Th-Thank you so much." She had bowed again, and took the haori with both hands to accept it.

"Now I accept your thanks." Saito had nodded.

"Thank you," she had murmured again, clutching the fabric. It had embarrassed her, then, to put it on with him there. There was something intimate about wearing another's clothing while they were there. It reminded her of scenes from her childhood, when neighbor of hers had draped his wife in his coat on rare occasions when it had snowed in Edo. The scene had been so dissimilar to her position that heat had risen to her cheeks. 

"Yukimura, it is freezing in here," Saito had said bluntly.

"R-Right," she had said, recognizing that he wanted her to put it on. She had turned away from him, quickly shrugged the haori on, and coughed lightly, unable to pull her eyes from the ground. "Um. Thank you again. It… It is very warm."

Saito had been silent, and Chizuru had squirmed internally, torn between wanting to look at him and wanting to turn away again.

"It… is. I am glad." Saito had coughed slightly, and she had looked up to see him quickly look away from her. His cheeks had been - she dared not truly think so, but she had seen it, or so she thought - slightly pink. But perhaps it was the cold. It had been freezing in the kitchen.

"Um." Chizuru had dared to ask. "Saito-san…"

"Yes?" His expression had been so composed that Chizuru had believed she had entirely imagined his reddened cheeks.

"I - May I ask… why?" She had raised her hands slightly as though to indicate the haori. And his eyes had caught her hands, and his brow had wrinkled slightly.

"Your hands, Yukimura."

"Oh - yes?" Chizuru had raised her hands up further and inspected them, and then had winced to see the reddened cracks in the back of her hands. "Oh. Yes."

He had reached out and grasped her hands, and Chizuru had let out half a breath in surprise when his thumb ran over the back of her hand. Saito met her eyes as she looked up at him, and when he did not look away, she had quickly looked at her hands again. "You should be careful."

"R-Right." Chizuru had reddened further at his closeness, and the way his thumb was carefully brushing the top of her hand. And him - his scent so close to her, something like musk mixed with the wood fire from her borrowed haori. She had thought, dizzily, that perhaps she did not need the haori as much as him, for the proximity was making her rather warm. And then, all at once, he had stepped away from her, and her hands had felt all the more cold for his absence. 

"It is our job to ensure you are safe." 

"What?" Chizuru had been attempting to recollect herself, had struggled to meet his eyes. 

"The haori." Saito had nodded at her. "If you get sick, we have not done our job well. And the vice-commander has tasked me with ensuring you are safe."

"Oh," Chizuru had said. "I - I see."

"Then." Saito had nodded at her, and turned away. "Stay warm."

"Y-Yes," Chizuru had said, and she had called to his retreating back, "You - you as well, Saito-san!"

When he had left, she had realized that she had forgotten to repay him somehow, and, over cleaning bowls from breakfast, had thought about how to do so. She did not get her opportunity, however, until much later, when the snows of winter had warmed into dew each morning. 

"Saito-san!" She had called him as he swung a wooden sword in one of the courtyards. He had straightened, acknowledging her call, and so she had walked down to meet him, carrying his folded haori.

"Here," she said, offering it to him with a bow. "I - thank you so much for letting me use it." 

"No," Saito said simply. 

"Wh-What?" Chizuru had snapped upright in surprise, but his face had been almost smiling instead of the cold gaze she had expected.

"It is yours." Saito nodded to her. "We cannot be certain how long it will take to find your father. As such, you may keep it."

"But…" Chizuru had floundered, feeling as though whatever gift she could give him would not quite make up for it anymore. Making tea, or mending his clothes, or something else, was not enough even for allowing her to use it temporarily. How much less equivalent were her gifts in face of the kindness of allowing her to keep it?

"Yukimura, I can hardly accept it now, either way." Saito had flicked his hair and she saw the sheen of sweat on his bangs, his practice sword still in his hand. Chizuru had flushed slightly.

"But… how can I repay you?" she had asked miserably, more to the dirt of the training grounds than Saito himself.

He had almost snorted, a soft noise in the back of his throat. "I told you already, Yukimura. This is not a gift. It is a necessity."

"But still…" 

"If you truly wish to repay me," Saito had said flatly, "just wear it when it is cold outside."

"That's not repayment, Saito-san," Chizuru had said lowly.

The man had shrugged, and then began to swing out kata once more. Chizuru had waited for a few seconds longer before sighing and turning back to return the haori to her room. His haori. She had frowned again.

"What's wrong, Chizuru?" Harada's voice had called to her from one of the verandas. 

"Ah, Harada-san." Chizuru had walked up to him and then stood beside him, facing Saito as he trained. His movements had been fast - sharp and explosive, and Chizuru knew from experience that they would have been deadly if the sword he had been holding was metal instead of wood. "I… I have a question."

"Go ahead." Harada had been smiling again - and not in his normal comfortable way, but in a way that twisted up at the edges slightly, as though biting back a smirk.

"I…" Chizuru had soldiered forwards. "If you wanted to thank someone… how would you repay them?"

"Hmm." Harada had leaned back slightly. "Depends who it was."

"I see." Chizuru had nodded slowly.

"For example, if you wanted to thank our quiet swordsman here…" Harada had nodded in Saito's direction and Chizuru had looked up, surprised, had questioned if Harada suspected her intentions. "I'd feel kind of bad for you. He's a hard one to thank." 

"Oh." Chizuru had ducked her head. 

"But…" Harada had paused. "The man likes tofu and swords. Does that give you something to work with?"

Chizuru had thought for a second. "Should I make tofu in the shape of a sword?"

Harada had laughed so loudly that Saito had stopped training to look at them, and Chizuru had flushed deeply. 

"Oh, sorry Chizuru," Harada said upon seeing her red face. He was still grinning too widely for Chizuru's comfort. "I just imagined you laying that out for dinner. I'd pay through the nose to see his face."

"It was a stupid idea," Chizuru had admitted quietly, flushing still. 

"What are you two discussing?"

She had stood upright at Saito's voice, considerably closer than it should have been. The man was walking up to them, practice sword in his hand.

"Chizuru was suggesting things to make for dinner," Harada had said easily.

"I see." Saito had eyed the two of them with something like disapproval. His eyes had lingered on her reddened cheeks for a second too long. "Perhaps you would like to train with me, Sano." 

"Oh, sure." Harada's mouth had twisted into a grimace, but he didn't look even slightly repentant. When Saito had turned to walk away, Harada had raised an eyebrow at her, had waited a second longer until Saito had been slightly too far away to hear his words. "Maybe, Chizuru, you should just spend some time with him."

"Spend time with him?" Chizuru had asked quietly, more to herself. "But… Saito-san is a very busy person."

Harada had hummed, looked at the man in front of them, who was now finding another practice sword. "I think he may make time for you. If you ask."

The next time Saito had come by on a rainy day, Chizuru had had tea prepared, bubbling above the fire, and two cups laid out. 

He had stood just inside the door, as he always did. He nodded at the hot water. "I see you are prepared."

"Yes!" Chizuru had smiled at him. "You always come by when it rains." 

She walked to the fire, removed the kettle from above it with a rag, and added the tea. The minute had passed in silence before she poured the steeped tea into the two cups. Saito had walked over to her, just behind her, so when she turned to offer him his cup, his hands had been ready to accept it. "Here you are."

"Thank you." He had looked at the other cup with a question in his eyes.

Chizuru had cleared her throat unnecessarily, had thought of Harada's knowing smile, and then hurriedly pushed it from her mind before she flushed. "Um. I was wondering if - if I could join you."

Saito's eyes had widened a fraction.

Chizuru quickly had tried to fill the silence. "Um, but - I completely understand if you're busy, or if I'd be a nuisance! I don't want to bother -"

"It's fine." Saito stopped her with a raised hand. "I don't mind."

"A-Are you sure?" Chizuru had tried to ignore the feeling of something blossoming in her, something dainty and dangerous.

"Yes." The man had nodded, and turned. "We can go sit on the veranda." 

"Right," Chizuru had said quickly, had hidden her growing smile behind her cup. 

And that, too, had become one of the rhythms in Chizuru's life, one of the many that were growing more and more centered around the third division captain. Two cups of tea waiting for him during rainy afternoons. The knowledge that, when she joined him during his patrols, he might stop and examine swords, and she might listen. And during the spring, on nights when the moon hung low and full in the sky, he would sit on the veranda and stare silently into the sky - and when she came hesitantly to sit beside him, he would not move away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always been intrigued by how casually Chizuru handles being in Shimabara in-game. This scene stems from that. Hope you enjoy :)

But when Itou had appeared in their headquarters, her life had changed, for the rhythms of her life grew less stable with more people in the buildings - people that Nagakura complained about so much one day that Chizuru had to politely ask him to leave the kitchen so she could focus. Hijikata, even, had caught her arm one day when she met him in the veranda as she left to sweep the courtyard.

"Be careful what you do." His eyes were narrow and hard.

"Sorry?" Chizuru had tried to keep herself from squeaking in surprise at his grip, insistent on her upper arm.

"Itou's men." Hijikata's voice had been low. "I don't want your secret to get out, understand?"

"R-Right." Chizuru had nodded many times. "I - I understand."

"Good." He had released her arm, tucked his hands in his sleeves as though nothing had happened, and walked away. She had stood there for a second, dazed, before quickly remembering herself and darting away to sweep.

Because of the conversation, and because of the press of new eyes on her, she had begun to hide herself away in her rooms most nights, regardless of the size of the moon. She had begun leaving the kitchen as soon as she was finished with her work for the day instead of lingering and waiting for Saito in case he decided he wanted tea. For Miki Saburo, Itou's younger brother, had begun surprising her with odd questions if she lingered in the kitchen, and the way the man eyed her made her nervous.

But even the uncomfortable nature of the new recruits had been alleviated when Harada had invited her to come to Shimabara to celebrate his reward money. Harada's promise of delicious food, and his quiet reassurance for her mildly horrified look at entering Shimabara ("I promise, it's not what you're thinking with that look on your face, Chizuru"), had convinced her to go. That, and his small comment - "Oh, and Saito agreed to join us, too." 

"Ahh, this is the good stuff," Heisuke had said. The look on his face had been almost rapturous as he eyed the sake jar in front of them. "Are you sure you don't want any, Chizuru?"

"Yes." Chizuru had smiled at him, but had felt something anxious roil in her stomach. 

Shimabara. Was it really right for her to be here, as a woman? Even as a woman disguised as a man. Or perhaps that was worse. She had heard things of Shimabara, of course - even in Edo, proper young women had heard whispers. Brothels. Chizuru did not know exactly what they held, but was all the more horrified by the breadth of possibility that her ignorance allowed her imagination to create. 

But, of course, she trusted the captains. They would never bring her anywhere unsavory, even if Heisuke and Nagakura were drinking sake like water. This was a restaurant. Chizuru eyed the oiran to her left and shifted uncomfortably. The only difference was that they were being served by an incredibly beautiful woman.

She was, of course, incredibly beautiful. Pale skin. Black hair spun in elaborate patterns and shining like glossy, fragrant dark wood. Jeweled decorations in her hair. Possibly the most beautiful kimono Chizuru had ever seen was tied around her, embroidered delicately. And her smile was almost secretive when she glanced at Hijikata-san, who she was lavishing most of her attention on. 

Chizuru shifted on her legs again. The last time she had gotten a good look at herself was in the cleansing pools between the monk's buildings in their current headquarters. The still water had shown her a small girl dressed as a boy in grubby clothing, with hair limp from the heat of the noonday sun. She had been nothing to look twice at - let alone someone to smile at, to flirt with, to laugh with when she gave a little joke and fluttered her eyes knowingly, as the oiran did. 

Chizuru had experienced the sudden urge to pull at her hair, or comb the sides of it slightly, even if it was an odd thing for a young boy to do. Even if the men in the room were more focused on the alcohol, or (in certain cases) on the kimono-clad woman before them. Chizuru had glanced at Saito, who was sitting to her left, between herself and the oiran, with Harada even closer to the woman. She had felt her nerves settle somewhat, seeing him continue to slowly sip his sake, eyes only barely moving towards the oiran when she coaxed something particularly funny from Hijikata-san, or Harada. And then she had pressed herself more firmly upright as though to reprimand herself for even thinking of - of -

"Yukimura." 

Chizuru had turned so quickly she almost cracked her neck. "Yes, Saito-san?"

"You look tense."

Chizuru had felt herself flush slightly, fearing just how clear her expressions had been. "Um… I'm really all right."

"I see." The man had set his sake cup before him and turned to her slightly. "You are certain?"

"If you're tense," Heisuke had interrupted, leaning over to her, "the sake will help."

"I - I really don't want any, but thank you, Heisuke-kun." Chizuru had quickly shaken her head. 

"Ahh, you should at least have a taste!" Heisuke was flushed, and when he had leaned towards her again, he got far closer than he normally would have, his head nearly inches from hers so that she could see the small scar on his forehead beneath his bangs. "It's so good, and it's on Sano."

"Don't abuse that," Harada had muttered.

"Sit up straight, Heisuke," Saito had said, and his eyes had narrowed at his friend.

"Ah, right, right," Heisuke had tipped towards the opposite direction instead, reaching for the sake bottle. "Another, Hajime?"

"Sure." Saito had extended his cup and Heisuke had poured him the drink just above Chizuru's lap - Chizuru had frozen still in case her movement caused Heisuke's hand to shake and spill some on her - and then poured himself a cup. 

"This is the life, huh, Hajime?" Heisuke had been grinning again, this time at the laquered ceiling. "Booze, food, and a beautiful woman."

Saito had made a low noise that could have been assent, but could equally as well have been complete ambivalence. Chizuru had felt something stir in her, a heat rising in her chest and throat. She remembered wondering if it was anger: she felt anger rarely, and its appearance often made her bite her lower lip as though it would pour out her mouth in scalding streams. But this was quieter, somehow. More painful than self-righteous. Chizuru had thought she had known what it was, and had forced that thought away, along with the feeling.

"She is beautiful," Chizuru had said calmly. Objectively.

"Yeah." Heisuke had grinned, this time at Nagakura. "Much prettier than where we normally go." 

Chizuru had felt her stomach tighten again, had wondered who joined the two of them on their 'normal' trips. Had wondered if the man beside her also came along.

She had been distracted from her thoughts by Saito standing up. 

"Oh!" The oiran had drawn her face into an altogether overdone look of surprise, mouth daintily coming to rest before her red-painted lips. "Are you going so soon?"

"I intend no offense," Saito had said beside her, bowing smoothly. "I wish to sit outside a while."

"Ah, a romantic." The woman had almost winked at him, and Chizuru had found her teeth gritted tightly together, to her own surprise.

"Hah! Saito, a romantic?" Hijikata snorted. 

Saito's expression hadn't changed at the vice-commander's teasing; he instead turned and left the room, smoothly rolling back a brocaded silk door behind the oiran as he did so. Within a few minutes, she had found herself turned to look at the door, had met Harada's eyes, and had seen the small smile draw up on his lips.

"Chizuru, you look like you could use some air." Harada's voice had not surprised her, but the flush that crept along her cheeks still did.

"Um." Chizuru had seen Hijikata raise an eyebrow and felt whatever confidence she had to stand up and leave dissipate.

"Ah, you should go," the oiran had said smoothly. Chizuru had looked at her, and the woman had smiled at her in a way that suddenly assuaged her earlier annoyance. "The gardens will be beautiful."

"Oh! It would be, um, my pleasure to admire them, then," Chizuru had said, and stood. She had paused, and then had bowed to the oiran as well. "Thank you for the advice."

"Of course." The woman's grin had grown wider and, while it could have been Chizuru's imagination, her smile had grown more sincere. "Enjoy the night."

Chizuru left feeling rather grateful for the oiran, and as she had shut the door, Saito looked up at her from a position a few more feet along the veranda.

"Yukimura," he had said with a touch of surprise. 

"Um, good evening, Saito-san." She had made her way carefully across the polished wood towards him before pausing just before him. "May I join you?"

"Yes." Saito had moved his sake cup to his right so that she could sit, and she had kneeled. The garden before them had been, as the oiran had said, beautiful. Small, manicured trees blossomed in the cool evening, and a manmade stream trickled slowly through the garden. Rocks were set around the foliage in a pleasing pattern. And the moon hung low and yellow in the sky. 

It had been so quiet that Chizuru could hear the soft intake of Saito's breath beside her, and had felt her ears redden slightly at their closeness. Every once in a while, the room behind them would break out in laughter, but it would be muffled by the silk screens so that no words were distinguishable. 

"Why did you come outside?" Saito's words had startled her. He had been looking directly at her - his eyes a dark blue matching the twilight sky behind them, and she had quickly looked back at the garden before them.

"Um." Chizuru had coughed. "Um, the oiran said that the gardens were beautiful - she said I should go see them."

She had chanced a glance at the man beside her. Saito had been nodding slowly. "I see."

"They are… lovely, aren't they?" she had asked. 

Saito had inclined his head slightly again. "Yes."

"Wh-Why did you come outside, Saito-san?" Chizuru had asked, desperate for something to say.

"I wished to sit outside." Saito had repeated his words from earlier. She had slumped slightly, having nothing more to say, but to her surprise, Saito had continued. "It is a nice night, and the others… will drink much tonight."

"You - You don't want to drink tonight?" Chizuru had asked.

Saito's lips had curved up in a small smile as he raised the small cup next to him. 

She had flushed. "Oh. Right."

"I enjoy sake," Saito had said. "But the others can be… loud."

"I see." Chizuru had nodded. Had thought of Heisuke's earlier comment - of normal places in Shimabara. She looked at the trees before her. What had they seen? Men and women on this veranda before? The oiran, in all their shining outfits? "Um, Saito-san…"

The man beside her had not said anything, but had taken a sip of his sake. 

"Do you… have you been here? Before?"

Saito had frozen beside her, hand halfway to lowering his drink onto the wood beside him. Chizuru had frozen as well at his surprise, thoughts immediately whirling - if she had said something wrong, or untoward, or if he was embarrassed or upset, she could not tell. But then again, she could rarely tell what he was thinking beyond the barest of guesses at his expressions.

"Before?" Saito had said, and had lowered the cup to the wood normally, as though he had not stopped still seconds before. "No. I have never been to this teahouse before."

"I see." Chizuru had let out a breath of relief, unsure if she was more relieved that the answer was no, or that he had finally spoken.

"You -" Saito had paused, had made an odd coughing noise. Chizuru remembered being surprised that he had paused, for Saito almost never stumbled while speaking. He had not been red, but his eyes had not exactly met her own, either. "Why do you ask?"

It had been Chizuru's turn to freeze. "Um. I suppose… I mean, I have never been here before, either."

"That…" Saito had cleared his throat again. "Yukimura, you - I am glad you have not been here before. Or in Shimabara at all."

"Oh." Chizuru's thoughts had paused momentarily.

"You - You have not been in Shimabara, have you?" Saito's eyes had suddenly met her own with an urgency that surprised her.

"Oh - um, n-no, I - no, I haven't." She had stumbled over the words at the look in his eyes - some strong emotion that could have equally been fear, or surprise, or anger. 

The man had relaxed almost visibly before her. "Good."

Chizuru had blinked at him, uncertain how to feel. Saito, apparently, had some idea of her confusion.

"Forgive me for my… words." Saito had looked at her, and then out to the garden, though Chizuru wondered if he saw the garden at all. "I… disagreed with Harada about bringing you here."

"You - You didn't want me here?" Chizuru had said quietly, suddenly thinking of the oiran, and how her painted eyes had winked at Saito.

"No, I -" Saito had cut himself off again, and Chizuru had thought, numbly, how she had not seen him so visibly conflicted before. If she had not been so hurt herself, she might have seen the way he swallowed before he spoke. "Yukimura, it is not that you are here. It is that you are here." He waved his hand at the gardens.

"I… like the gardens," Chizuru had said softly.

"No - not the gardens." Saito had sighed, gathering himself. "Yukimura, Shimabara is not the place for a woman."

"Oh." Chizuru had thought of her father, then. Of how he had always lectured her about being a proper woman so that one day she could be a wife to a nobleman. "I see."

"Yes." Saito had said, and she had known he meant that he was glad that she had understood him. 

"I… just - um, Harada just asked. He - He said it would be fine." Chizuru had gathered her legs all the more under herself, had crossed her arms over her torso.

"I do not blame you, Yukimura." Saito's words had been unexpectedly kind, and when she had turned to him, his eyes were as well. "I merely…" 

Chizuru had waited another second, as he had turned to look at the moon. When he spoke, he addressed the sky. "I merely ask that if one of them - if Harada mentions he wants you to come here again - that doing so is probably unwise."

"Yes, of - of course." Chizuru had nodded quickly. 

Saito had nodded as well, and they had sat in silence for the rest of the night, as the moon climbed higher, and until Hijikata-san had come outside and narrowed his eyes at the two of them, sending them back into the room from whence they had came. And if Saito had sat between her and Harada again, and had eyed Heisuke warningly if he came a little too close to Chizuru, she told herself it was her imagination.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one contains a long time-skip at the beginning of the chapter so there's no excessive repetition from the game. I hope that jump in time makes sense to all of you :)

When Chizuru had returned to the compound after their journey to Shimabara had ended, she had no expectation for what would occur next, or how it would rend the small rhythms she had managed to create with Saito in two. However, despite it all - despite the shock and pain of the rest of that night, despite the slash to her arm and the scandal at Sannan's reappearance, despite having to hide her unnatural healing, despite the taunting comments from Miki or Itou's snide words - the worst of the aftermath of that night was this: Saito had decided to leave along with Itou and his men.

When Chizuru had ran up to him to say goodbye, or to convince him to stay - or perhaps both, for her heart and her mind had been clouded with betrayal and she had not thought but instead acted - he had barely turned to see her. His eyes were frigid, like the waters of Edo in winter that she had seen as a child - violent and black, churning with white foam. 

The conversation itself had not gone much better, but Saito's words had imprinted themselves upon her mind - believing in things that did not change. But, as Chizuru thought often to herself while working, was that not the opposite of what he was doing? He was changing. He was leaving. He had dropped all their rhythms, all the little things she had done for him. And when it rained, or the morning was cold, she thought of him. And on the first frost of the year, when she unfolded the black haori she had resolutely tried to ignore, she tried and failed to stop the bitter tears.

And so, given her anguish, given her tears, when Saito had stood before her once again, as Hijikata-san explained his ruse as a spy, Chizuru had been unable to stop herself from standing up to leave the room, pretending to get tea to gather herself. She had to breathe quietly enough to stop the tears from flushing her face. She had found a pot, had set it to a boil. Had gathered enough cups to supply all the captains with green tea - Saito's favorite kind, for she still had enough of it. And then, with a deep breath, she had entered the room, eyes on the tatami mats.

"Yukimura!" Inoue had smiled so gently at her, and Chizuru almost froze, feeling as though he could see right through her, and how she had wept in the kitchen while the water boiled. "It is so kind of you to think of us."

"No - not at all," she had said, quickly laying out the cups. And if she had paused a second before approaching Saito, no one had said a word. 

"Thank you, Yukimura." His voice had been low, and Chizuru had not dared to look at his face.

"You're welcome." And she had moved on, gathering the teapot, keeping her thoughts to herself as she poured tea and the others spoke of deaths, assassinations, of impending fears. 

As they had spoken, she had sipped the tea that she had not touched since he had left. The bitterness of the tea had been tempered by her short steeping time. She knew it was the way that Saito liked it, after making it so many times, and Chizuru had wondered if he recognized that she still could tell. The man who she had first seen kill the Furies in front of her and then had left her behind in a flurry of cherry blossoms was back - more real than the tiny, withered flower she had treasured since he had left. She had thought of him so many times in those months. Had allowed herself to finally realize that the small emotions she had gathered carefully to her chest while he had been near her, for fear of letting him see them, were not just childish affection or friendship. 

His eyes had been, as ever, on Hijikata, listening intently. Chizuru had carefully taken another sip of the tea as though it could hide her gaze on him. He had worn the same simple black clothes as ever, and his familiar white scarf had sat draped around his shoulders. His back had still been ramrod straight, and his hair was still long, his bangs almost hiding his dark eyes. There had been no discernable difference to speak of despite their months apart. Chizuru could not decide if she wanted something tangible to pick out, something that would indicate that he, too, had felt the pull of time on him, and the pull of distance between them, or if she preferred him to be the same Saito. If she, too, preferred believing in things that did not change. 

And then he had looked at her. Chizuru had frozen in place, this time, but it was not obvious - her cup clasped loosely in her hands, and her eyes on his. He had blinked slowly at her, as though acknowledging her gaze, and then had turned back to the now-intense conversation between Kondo and Hijikata. She had let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding.

Finally, though Chizuru's mind was far from their planning, the meeting had broken, and the men had scattered to prepare for their raid, and for Itou's assassination, which Chizuru had carefully avoided in her mind. And yet Saito had not moved when the others had left, nor when she had stood, but sat motionless as she gathered cups from the ground. The loud clink of pottery, even, had not disturbed Saito's expression, or roused him from his silent thoughts. Chizuru again had done her best to ignore this, but it had been much harder to ignore the man she was trying not to love than the thought of an assassination she would not participate in.

All the same, he had not even batted an eye when she came close enough to him to touch his shoulder so that she could gather his cup.

"Excuse me, Saito-san," she had said quietly as she stooped in front of him to get his empty cup. 

"Yukimura," he had said abruptly. She had frozen, halfway bent down before him. His eyes had bored into hers for a second before he shut them. "Thank you."

"Y-You're welcome," Chizuru had said, trying to ignore the roll of her stomach at being so close to him. She had added his cup to her growing pile and stood again. Saito had made no indication that he had noticed her motion. 

"Yukimura," he had said again. Chizuru had paused, having finished gathering all the cups and having readied herself to leave. "Will…"

She had dared not turn around, but stood facing the screen door. 

"Will you come and sit?" Saito's words and expression had revealed no emotion, but, then again, she had not expected them to. Chizuru had carefully set down the cups and, barely daring to breathe, walked over to him and sat down, eyes on the floor.

"It has been a while." Saito had looked at her.

"It has," Chizuru had said, smoothing her hakama nervously.

"You… I enjoy your tea," Saito had said, and Chizuru had felt her cheeks redden, her hands stopping in place. So. He had noticed.

"Thank you." She had looked at her hands, clasped in front of her. She had never even dreamed of this moment - had never imagined, really, that she would see him again. And there he had been. And she had felt like all her words had left her.

"I have missed it." Chizuru almost had not believed her ears, but when she had looked at Saito, she had seen the slightest of flushes on his cheeks. He had looked away when her eyes had met his, and she had felt her breath catch in her throat. 

"I… I have missed you, Saito-san." The words had tumbled out before she could stop them, and he had turned to her, eyes fractionally wider. It was a look of shock, on Saito.

"You should not," Saito had said.

"What?" Chizuru had blinked.

"You have heard the things we discussed today," Saito had said. Chizuru had refrained from stating that the amount of attention she normally paid to conversations had been complicated somewhat by his presence. "I - we - are not men to be missed."

"Why not?" she had asked. Saito had continued looking at her, and she could see the confusion in the small lines in his brow. 

"Yukimura…" It had been a sigh of her name, and even hearing the tone had made her wince internally, though she had done her best not to show it. "You… are kinder than you should be."

"But - I -" Chizuru had tried to put her words in a line that made sense. "Saito-san, I do not think any of you are bad men, regardless."

Saito had looked at her, and she had felt as though his gaze would pierce through her. 

"I… I admire you very much, Saito-san," she had said, feeling heat rise to her cheeks, fearful both that she would finish the sentence and that she could not, "and I -"

Saito had stood abruptly. "Stop."

"Wh-What?" Chizuru had opened her mouth, but Saito had held up a hand.

"I - Yukimura. I am no one to be admired." Saito had walked away from her, quickly. He had paused, sliding the screen door back, had glanced at her for only a second. "Please. Do not." 

"But I -" 

And the door had shut on her words, and Chizuru, altogether overcome, had begun to cry. It had been Hijikata who found her, much to her complete shame, as she wept while kneeling on the floor, the abandoned stacks of cups a few paces away from her. 

"Chizu -" The vice-commander's voice had stopped halfway through her name. She had straightened, scrubbed at her eyes, had known she was flushing dark red. Chizuru had not ventured a glance behind her, where she knew Hijikata stood.

"H-Hijikata-san," she had said, but her voice had been higher than normal and scratchy, had kept cracking. "I - I'm sorry, forgive me, I was just - um, I was just resting a m-minute."

"You…" His voice was more lost than she had heard him ever be before.

"Sorry!" Chizuru had tried to flee, only to find an arm grabbing her shoulder firmly.

"Hey." Hijikata's voice had been almost annoyed, and Chizuru had winced at the trouble she had caused - the moments she was making him waste. "You… why are you crying?"

"It's - It's nothing," Chizuru said, still unable to look at him, though he had pulled her to face him. "I'm - I'm just going to wash the cups."

"You're upset. About Itou," Hijikata said firmly, as though this was the answer, and Chizuru had been so surprised, so relieved, that she actually had almost smiled, to which the hand on her arm had loosened in surprise.

"N-No, i-it's not that." Chizuru had tried to squirm away from him, then, but he had grabbed her again.

"You're - what is this about, then? Harada and Nagakura will bring Heisuke back." Though she still could not look up, she could feel his eyes on her. "Don't worry about it."

Chizuru, who had already been in a vulnerable emotional state, almost had begun crying again at the unexpected kindness - that Hijikata was genuinely concerned about her. But he had given her another out, and she was going to take this one rather than explain the real situation. "Y-Yes. Thank you. That's… exactly what I was worried about. Thank you for, um, saying that." 

Hijikata hadn't loosened his grip on her arm this time. "You're a horrible liar, Yukimura."

She had stood in silence for a minute, hoping he would let it go. Hijikata had not moved. "So. What is it?"

"Y-You don't need to worry about me, Hijikata-san," Chizuru had said, voice barely above a whisper. "I-I know you have a lot of important things to be doing right now."

"Yeah, well, when you're unhappy, every single one of my captains gets snarky because your food gets worse," Hijikata had said brusquely.

Chizuru had shut her mouth again, had willed for Hijikata to release her. He had stood before her, seemingly in thought, for a moment longer. 

He finally had released a weary sigh. "Is this about your father?"

"N-No," Chizuru had said, flushing again. "P-Please, Hijikata-san, I need to go."

He had sighed again, deeper this time, and Chizuru had shut her eyes in discomfort. "Kid."

"Y-Yes?" She had stiffened involuntarily at the word. 

"Go if you want to. Just… We shouldn't have involved you in this." Hijikata's voice was low and quiet, something that could have been apology in his voice. 

"It's - It's really not -" Chizuru had stuttered again.

"I don't care what it is," Hijikata had said, anything soft in his voice entirely gone, "and if this happens again, you are not lying to me. Do you understand?"

"Right," Chizuru had said quickly, had gathered the cups, and had made as fast of an escape as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think this is less slow-burn than the game... you may be right?


	5. Chapter 5

Days had passed before she had seen Saito again, and when he had seen her, he had acted no differently, as though the conversation had never occurred, and so Chizuru began to keep a pot waiting for him in the kitchen, just in case. But he never came to see her for tea or company - even when months passed, even when it rained for four straight days. When she had seen Heisuke the next day rain had poured down without any sign of the man she had been hoping to see, she had mustered the courage and asked him about Saito.

"Oh, what? You didn't hear, Chizuru-chan? Guy got himself a cold."

"A cold?" Chizuru had thought of her father, of patients who had brought in loved ones with 'a cold,' patients who had then had died weeks later of something far more serious.

"Woah, Chizuru, don't give me that look," Heisuke had said, eyes wide. "Matsumoto-sensei saw him and everything. It's fine."

Chizuru had let out a real breath of relief. "Oh. Thank goodness."

"He's fine. Saito just works himself real hard, y'know? Runs around all the time for Hijikata." Heisuke had peered over the fire at the pot she had been preparing for dinner. "What's this?"

"It's soup," Chizuru had said distractedly. "Will you watch it for me, Heisuke?"

"Watch it?" Heisuke had looked at her in surprise. 

"Really quickly," Chizuru had said, already preparing a bowl with a clean cloth to fill with water. "I'll be back really quickly!"

"Woah, wait!" Heisuke had called to her back, but Chizuru had already begun walking to Saito's room. 

Regardless of if it was entirely appropriate, she had found herself before his door in mere minutes, bowl filled with cold water along the way. Kneeling, she had called out quietly: "Saito-san?"

There had been no response. Chizuru had swallowed, feeling unexpectedly nervous. "Saito-san?"

After another pause, she had steeled herself. "Okay, then. Um, I'm coming in." 

The room had been still, soundless. And a form had been stretched out on a thin futon, black hair spiraling around his head. Chizuru had quickly drawn the door shut behind her and, as silently as she could, had walked to him.

Saito's face had been wet, a thin sheen of sweat covering it, and his breathing had been loud in the otherwise still room - labored breathing. Chizuru had bit her lip. She had dipped the cloth in the bowl, wrung it out, and placed it carefully on his forehead. 

She had had nothing to do besides observe him - his eyelashes, and the thin shadows they made on the darker circles under his eyes. The pattern his hair made on his futon, and how long it was when it was untied, brushing the edge of the blanket thrown over him. The clavicle bone she could see just beneath his loose collar. The way his lips curved. Chizuru had flushed and looked away, had steadfastly thought of something other than Saito. 

"Yukimura." A rough voice had jolted her from her thoughts; she had immediately met Saito's eyes. She had been closer to his face than she really had been before, and she had found herself thinking of how blue his eyes really were - as though they had been speckled with flecks of the sky.

"S-Saito-san, I am so, so sorry if I woke you," she had said nervously.

"No." Saito had shaken his head barely. "You…"

"Do you need anything?" she had asked quickly. "I - I can get porridge, or make tofu, or, um, I can get you some tea."

"No," he had said. "I am… fine."

"You're sick." Chizuru remembered feeling slightly upset, then, to see him so stoic in the face of illness. Though he had faced death as a samurai every day, it was the little things, sometimes, that killed you. Colds that became infections. Coughs that gradually bloodied one's hands. A fish bone caught in the throat.

"The cloth." Saito had raised his hand slightly, but his movements had been slower than normal, and he had brushed her shoulder instead of finding his head. Chizuru had tried not to stiffen, but from the way he had pulled away, hand instead hovering in the air inches from her, she had suspected that she had done so anyways. "It is… nice."

"Good," Chizuru had said. 

His hand had not moved, and she had touched it gently, trying to make him lower it again. Instead, his fingers had closed around hers. She had frozen, eyes upon him, but his eyes had been shut, then, and his breathing even. Even so, he had surely not been sleeping, for he lowered his hand along with hers to his side again.

"Um." Chizuru had almost lost her voice, had tried not to squeak. "Saito-san."

"Stay." Saito's voice had been so quiet that she almost had missed it over her pounding heart. 

"Oh," she had said unconsciously. She could feel the calluses of sword fights long past on his fingers, and while his hand was unnaturally warm due to the fever, she could not help but think of the way her hand fit in his. How safe she felt. "Um. Yes."

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. When her thoughts finally returned to her, after dwelling on the sleeping form before her for so long, she had remembered to dip the cloth again in the cold water before settling it on his forehead once more. Time had passed, and Chizuru had replayed the moment in her head. "Stay." And how often she had longed to hear him say something of the sort - expressing a desire for her to sit at his side, as she had many days before.

All the times she had dreamed of him coming to sit beside her on one the temple's many verandas, and look up at the moon as it hung low in the sky. All of the days she had carefully separated two cups from the rest of the plate ware, just in case. And now he was here.

"Yukimura," Saito had said, eyes opening. "Is it not late?"

"Oh," Chizuru had said. Had suddenly remembered leaving Heisuke with soup. "Oh, no."

Saito's hand had loosened further around hers. "I am fine, Yukimura. You should go."

"I -" Chizuru had been momentarily torn, and then had recalled the one day she had been too sick to cook and had tasted Okita's cooking. "I think, um, that might be wise."

"Yes." He had sighed quietly, and he had looked at her a second longer before his hand, slowly, had reached upwards and touched her cheek. She had flushed instantly. His fingers had traced her cheekbone down to her jaw and halted there for a second. And then he had slowly pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she had shivered as his fingers brushed the shell of her ear.

"Thank you." His voice had been so quiet she had almost missed it again.

"Um." She had not trusted her voice. "Th-Thank you." 

He had made a quiet cough that could have been a laugh. "Good night, Yukimura."

"Yes." She had stood, dazed. "Good night." 

And when she had walked out to see the moon in the sky instead of the sun, had been informed by both Harada and Nagakura that she would never let Heisuke near dinner again, and had begun to clear up the mess Heisuke had made of the kitchen, no one questioned why her fingers kept straying to her head each time she had thought she had felt his phantom fingers ghosting across her hair. And if Harada had raised his eyebrows knowingly at her when he'd stopped by the kitchen the next day and mentioned that he had heard that Saito was feeling a lot better, he hadn't said anything when she had flushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favorite chapter so far.


	6. Chapter 6

War had been stirring as the Shinsengumi had prepared to leave Nishi Honganji Temple for Toba-Fushimi, and Chizuru had missed Saito on several chilly days due to (as she had discovered later) war meetings. Late at night, just before they had left, she had run into him. She had been walking back from the baths on a rare occasion when Yamazaki and Shimada had been carefully ensuring that she could use them. He had been standing in the central courtyard, staring seemingly at nothing but empty sky.

"S-Saito-san," she had said, more to herself than to him, but he had turned to look at her anyways as she stood on the veranda, her hair still wet from the baths. 

"Yukimura." He had not motioned to her, but she had felt invited all the same. She had walked down, towel carefully folded in her arms. 

"What are you doing up so late, Saito-san?" 

He had looked at her wet hair. "You were in the baths."

"Yes." She had felt self-conscious, had pushed a strand of it behind her ear. "Yamazaki-san and Shimada-san were making sure it was all right, though. Hijikata-san asked them to." 

"I see." Saito had turned back to the sky. She, too, had looked up. There had been a few stars, speckled like fallen leaves in the indigo waters of the heavens. There had been no moon.

"Saito-san." She had glanced at him. He had not looked down at her. "You, um, you didn't answer my question."

"I was running an errand for Hijikata-san." Saito had not elaborated, and she had thought of the time he had shown her his sword in a darkened alley, had remembered aloud all the blood it had seen. 'Errand' took on a darker meaning, with that in mind.

"I… see." Chizuru had coughed lightly, as though to acknowledge the omission of truth. 

But Saito had not looked down, still. "Yukimura."

"Yes?" 

"We are leaving soon." 

"Yes." Chizuru had been packing bowls, cups, pots, and chopsticks into wooden chests all day. "Are you - are you ready to go?"

He had nodded stiffly. "I am." 

"Oh, good." Chizuru had smiled a bit at him. "I'm packing up the kitchen, still, but I'm ready otherwise."

Saito had looked down, finally, to meet her eyes. They had been almost black in the lack of light. "You… There has been talk of war."

"Oh," Chizuru had said. "Yes."

"You know that?" Saito's expression had been unreadable.

"Yes." She had looked at the floor. War had meant her uselessness would be all the more apparent. War had meant… uncertainty. Change.

"Are you sure you wish to come?" He had been facing her head-on, his eyes devoid of light. "Your safety, while we will protect you as best we can… It is not certain. You could still stay here in Kyoto."

"I -" Chizuru had stopped, had fumbled for an excuse that was not, 'I don't wish to leave you,' or, 'I cannot possibly leave the Shinsengumi after all of this.' She had sputtered for a moment before remembering herself. "But my father!" 

"Yukimura." His voice had not been gentle. "I doubt he is alive any longer. It has been years since anyone last saw him."

"But you said - you said he was too valuable to kill." Chizuru had felt tears prick her eyes at the thought, along with the hard edge in his voice. "You said that, Saito-san!"

He had paused before speaking again. "Yes, I did say that. But I… Yukimura, if you truly desire to find your father, the battlefield is not the right place. It would be here in Kyoto, where Matsumoto-sensei is."

"But -" Chizuru had stopped herself before she had said something she regretted. She had felt the burn of tears and the flush on her face, had struggled to regain composure.

Saito had continued speaking. "I have spoken to him - to Matsumoto-sensei. He has said he is willing to take you in if you wish it."

"Why?" Chizuru had felt the words like the slash of a sword through her, the pain made all the more painful from the agony of her previous months separated from him. He had said to her to stay with him. He had drunk tea again with her, silent on the veranda. How could he say these things? 

"You should not be involved in this war," Saito had said simply, his face impassive. "It is not your place."

"Not my place?" Chizuru had felt the tears fall, then, and Saito's expression had wavered slightly before settling back in place - emotionless calm. "It's not my place?"

"No." Saito had turned away from her. "You are not part of the Shinsengumi. You can leave if you wish."

"I don't wish it!" Chizuru had said, rather louder than she needed to. 

"You - why?" Saito had asked. Had turned back to look at her. "This is war, Yukimura. Not patrols." 

"I don't care." Chizuru had glared at him furiously, had dropped the towel on the ground as though to smack the ground with it. "You -" 

"You might get hurt. You might die." Saito's face was still a mask.

"I know that!" Chizuru had almost yelled, completely disregarding the otherwise still air of the temple. 

"You have not seen death, Yukimura." 

And it was this that had set her off. Death had haunted her household since her infancy - men and women perishing as her father tended to them. And he dared say she had not seen death. Chizuru had walked up to him until she was inches from him, and tears had fallen onto the small patch of dirt between their sandaled feet. 

"I've seen men die of sword wounds before, Saito-san, or of falling, or of drowning. I know just about every way a man can die. Do you know why? Because I grew up watching them pass away in my living room, over and over! I know what it's like to get hurt, and what it's like to die. Don't ever say that I don't!"

Saito's eyes had widened a fraction, but he had not budged an inch, despite how close they were. 

"And you - you can't make me leave." Chizuru had felt her anger fall away at the words that fell from her lips - words that she found were altogether too truthful. She had gathered her face in her hands, lowering it so that the crown of her head had almost brushed his chest. "I - Saito-san, please - please don't make me go."

He had exhaled softly above her; they had been so close that she could hear it. When he spoke, it was soft and low. "Yukimura." 

"P-Please don't make me," she had said brokenly, entirely giving up on any pretenses, hot tears spilling down her palms and neck. 

And then his arms had been around her, pulling her barely towards him, and then more firmly. Chizuru had taken an awkward step forward, and then another, until her face and hands (for she had not had the time to drop them) had been nestled against his chest and shoulder, his scarf soft against her face. She had, for a moment, forgotten to breathe; her tears had stopped from surprise. He had smelled of wood fire, of smoke, and of a coppery smell like blood, but his scarf had smelled of something herbal and clean that might have been tea. 

She had felt - and heard - him swallow before he had spoken, and when he had spoken, she could feel the reverberations of it through his chest. "You…"

Chizuru had not dared move, in case this was a dream and she was going to return, any second, to their previous argument. However, instead of continuing whatever he had been about to say, Saito had not spoken. He had shifted his arms, slightly, perhaps to make himself more comfortable. Chizuru, for her part, feeling her elbows bending uncomfortably between them, had slowly pulled her hands down from her face, and then, more quickly - before he could move - had extracted them from between them and put them around his back. Saito had stiffened barely, and she had heard a small intake of breath from above her. 

But he had not let her go. She had felt his back, firm and warm through his clothing, under her bare hands, had felt his chest pressed against her torso. One of her legs had, barely, been touching his. His arms had been secure around her, and Chizuru had never felt quite so enveloped. So warm. She had felt as if every part of her was hypersensitive to him, and the way his body had moved gently as he had breathed against her.

"Yukimura." His breath had brushed her ear and she had involuntarily shivered. "You… you wish to stay?"

"Yes," Chizuru had said, voice still slightly shaky (though from the tears or their nearness, she had not been able to tell). 

"The war…" His voice had trailed off.

"It's okay," Chizuru had said. "I - I'll be okay. I - I won't be a burden."

"You…" Saito had released her, then, and she had immediately dropped her arms from around him and stepped away. She had noticed as she did so that his eyes were not directly meeting hers, though it was dark enough that any flush on his cheeks was not visible. "You are certain you do not want to stay here, in Kyoto."

"Yes." Chizuru had met his gaze when he had finally looked at her. "I - yes, Saito-san. I want to go with you."

He had stared at her a minute more. "All right."

"All right?" she had repeated hesitantly. "You - you won't ask me to leave?"

He had turned away again. "Yukimura." 

"Yes?" 

Saito had looked up at the sky briefly. "You… if you change your mind before we go, Matsumoto-sensei is willing."

"I am not going to change my mind," Chizuru had said firmly. "You - You didn't need to go to see him, to ask."

Saito had sighed - she had heard it, despite his back to her. 

Chizuru had felt the cold prick of fear in her chest. Perhaps she had argued with the wrong person after all. "Did Hijikata-san ask you?" 

"No." 

"Then..." Chizuru had nodded to his back. "Then I can stay."

Saito had finally turned around, facing her. "Be careful, Yukimura. It is… The war will be…"

He had paused again. Chizuru had held her breath. He let out a long breath, almost a sigh. "Be careful."

"I will, Saito-san." She had walked up to him, so their sleeves brushed. "Um. Thank you for letting me stay with you."

He had coughed lightly and looked just to the side. "It is nothing."

"Well." Chizuru had smiled. "Thank you anyways."

Saito had walked away, then, but Chizuru had known it was not in dismissal. It had been late, and she had picked up the towel from the ground, had shaken it out. It had been late, and she had packing to do the next morning. And within the week, they had moved to Toba-Fushimi.


	7. Chapter 7

Saito had been busy in the early days there. Chizuru had spent most of her time working to forget the way most of the captains' jaws were constantly tensed, the hard set of their shoulders, the anxious way Heisuke paced back and forth at night in the darkness, as a Fury, for by then it had gotten so bad that he could not go out during the day. Saito was mostly absent, and the majority of the the third division was as well. Scouting, Harada had told her when she had asked. 

"He's busy, Chizuru-chan." Harada had started adding the honorific just before the move, but dropped it when someone who didn't know her secret was around. "Hijikata has him on the move behind enemy lines."

"Behind?" Chizuru had almost dropped the broom she had been absentmindedly pretending to sweep with as a pretext to speak to Harada.

"Hey, it's all right. He'll be fine." Harada had shook his head at her, spear loosely in one hand. "If anyone can do it, it's Saito and Yamazaki."

"They go together?" Chizuru had let out a small breath. 

"He has backup." Harada had suddenly bit back a grin at something behind her. His voice, when he had spoken, was just a touch too loud, and he had rubbed her shoulder lightly, making her look at him in surprise. "Man, Chizuru-chan. You shouldn't be so worried."

"What?" Chizuru had looked behind her quickly, following Harada's gaze, to see Saito. The rush of relief she had felt upon seeing him was tempered somewhat by Saito's gaze. His eyes were narrowed at Harada in a way she had not quite seen him look at a fellow captain before. But then his face had flattened into its natural blank expression. "Oh, Saito-san!"

"Yukimura. Sano." His voice had been cold, his eyes on Harada's.

"Hey, Hajime. Chizuru-chan and I were just talking about you." Harada had looked rather smug, as though he had noticed none of the edge to Saito's voice.

"You should drop the honorific." Saito had glanced at Chizuru and back to Harada. "If someone hears, what will they say?"

"It's fine. I'm careful." Harada had grinned at her over Saito's head. "Right, Chizuru-chan?"

Chizuru could feel the beginning of a blush on her cheeks. Saito was just worried about her secret getting out. It had nothing to do with the casual use of the honorific indicating closeness, or affection. "Um, yes." 

"You don't want her secret to get out, do you?" Saito's tone had gotten a little more clipped.

"Of course not." Harada had waved a hand in the air. "Don't worry about it, Hajime."

Saito had stared at him a second longer, face unreadable. "I am serious, Sano."

Harada's eyebrows had raised. "Yeah, I can tell." He had sent a look to Chizuru, who had flushed even though she was not entirely sure what she was supposed to get from the look. 

"I'm here to relieve you of your shift." Saito had tilted his head slightly at Harada, as though to indicate the direction he wanted Harada to leave by. 

"Yeah, I got it." Harada shrugged. "Hey, you should tell Chizuru-chan where you're going next time. She's been over here asking me about you."

"What?" Chizuru had flushed deeply, had glanced quickly at Saito to check his reaction. His face was impassive as ever. 

"Men shouldn't let beautiful women worry about them, Saito." Harada had grinned at them both over his shoulder as he walked away. 

Saito had made a low noise in the back of his throat, but Chizuru had been unable to see his expression, as his face had been looking away, staring at Harada's retreating back. The silence between them stretched on until Harada had turned the corner behind a building and had disappeared from sight. Chizuru pressed a hand to her face, struggling to cool the heat in her cheeks. It was not untoward to worry about one of the captains. But the way Harada had said it had suggested something else that she had carefully avoided in her mind, even despite her conversation with Saito just before the move. And Saito still wasn't turning around.

"Um, you - I know you're really busy," Chizuru had said quickly. "It - It's really okay, I understand that you're busy and that some of the things you do are - you can't tell me about them."

Saito had finally turned to look at her, but he still said nothing. 

Chizuru had flushed with embarrassment, entirely uncertain where his mind was but feeling guilty for being the cause of his silence all the same. "S-Sorry if Harada-san made it seem like I was really upset. I'm not upset, I just - I was just wondering where you were so then I, um, had been asking Harada-san -"

"You were worried." Saito had interrupted her stream of words easily. 

"Um." Chizuru had wilted slightly. "I'm sorry."

Saito had shook his head slowly. "No. I should apologize."

"What?" Chizuru had blinked. "No - I was just -"

"I -" Saito coughed lightly, but continued to meet her eyes. "I did not mean to make you worry, Yukimura. I apologize."

"Oh," Chizuru had said, feeling a sudden tightness in her chest. A sudden warmth. "I… It's really okay. As long, um, as long as you're okay."

"As long as…" Saito had repeated softly, eyebrows raised slightly. 

"Um, as long as you're okay, I'm happy." Chizuru had felt herself flush dark red before she had even finished the sentence, but had forced herself to finish anyways. And she was rewarded, much to her surprise, with a sudden redness in his cheeks as well. Saito immediately had looked away, but she had seen it, and Chizuru had barely dared to breathe, as though doing so would knock the image from her memory. 

"You -" Saito had broken off, eyes still avoiding her.

"Y-Yes?" 

"No, it's nothing." The flush was gone from his face, and he had looked at her again, although there was something in his eyes, his posture, that was different. Something hesitant. "I - I will tell you, Yukimura, if I will be gone for a while again."

"Thank you, Saito-san." Chizuru had smiled at him.

"Harada - he is right that you should not worry about me." Saito had cleared his throat, and suddenly his expression, his body language, had been normal again. "Although he is wrong about other things."

Chizuru had blinked at the sudden diversion in their conversation. "What?"

"I mean that he has no right to call you that." Saito had folded his arms.

"Call me?" Chizuru had had to think for a few seconds to get past the image of Saito blushing - so anachronous with the man who now stood before her - to return to his earliest point. Honorifics. "Oh - you mean…"

"He has no right." Saito's eyes had narrowed slightly in an expression that, on him, was truly annoyed.

"No right?" Chizuru had repeated. 

"Does he call you that often?"

"Um, it's really okay, Saito-san. He doesn't say anything in front of anyone who - I mean, anyone who doesn't, you know, um, know about my situation."

"It is dangerous to say such things."

Chizuru had felt compelled to justify Harada, even slightly. For he had been kind to her, and she knew he always meant well. "I think Harada-san has tried to be very careful."

"Careful is not enough!" Saito had said, considerably louder than he normally spoke, and she had jumped. He, too, had looked slightly surprised. "I… apologize for startling you, Yukimura."

"Well," Chizuru had said, "um, I don't mind. That he calls me that." 

Saito had turned, looking at her. His expression, and the set of his shoulders, had been tense. On anyone other than him, she might have perceived jealousy, or disapproval, but Saito was still mostly expressionless. "Perhaps you should mind. He should not be calling you that."

Chizuru had, by this point, run out of further arguments, and made only a half-hearted attempt to contradict him. "I…" 

"It is your secret," Saito said. "Not his."

"O-Okay, Saito-san." Chizuru had fought, out of respect for his seriousness, a small smile. "I'm sure it's fine, but I appreciate that you're being careful."

"It is not being careful, it is being logical," Saito had immediately corrected her. 

She had made no effort to oppose him further, and instead had returned to what she was really supposed to be doing - sweeping the courtyard. Saito, for his part, had settled into the position abandoned by Harada, one hand resting on his sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harada is a meddler. Harada is the scheming mastermind behind all of this.


	8. Chapter 8

Saito, however, had not always kept his promise to tell her when he would leave. Over time, she had noticed him disappearing more and more, despite (or perhaps due to) the rising tension among the troops at the increasing rumors of impending warfare. He had frequently left behind the rest of the captains to spend time in one of the outer rooms of their residence, working on stacks of paperwork that Hijikata had begun to hand off to him. Chizuru had understood this to be an implicit trust that Hijikata had for Saito above the other captains, but had still felt stirrings of something quietly upset in herself when she noted Saito missing dinner, ducking out of captains' meetings, or not coming to see her in the kitchen on rainy days. 

She had walked around the courtyard once, late at night, unable to sleep, and had seen a candle flickering in one of the outside rooms. She had peered in through the thin slit open between the sliding doors and seen Saito's back facing her, sheets of paper around him like walls. Chizuru had felt her eyes water, suddenly, at the sight - his solitary back, head bent, the only person who was still awake, even though swords might be drawn for battle the very next day. And so she had gone to prepare him tea.

As she had measured the leaves, waited for steam to rise from the kettle, she had kept her hands clenched into fists, wrapping her arms around herself. For despite the tension that had settled over the compound like a blanket, she could still do nothing but make tea. She could not do his paperwork, nor fight at his side. She had poured the water, strained the tea from the kettle to bring along with her if he wanted more. And despite her frustration, she had taken a breath, and gone to see him. 

"Excuse me," she had said, voice barely louder than a whisper outside his door. 

There was no response. Chizuru had had the sudden, startling thought that he had perhaps fallen asleep at his desk.

"Excuse me, Saito-san," she had tried again.

"Yukimura?" His voice was quiet but surprised.

"Yes. I know it's late, I'm sorry. May I come in? I brought you tea."

Saito had taken another beat before responding. "Yes."

"Thank you," she had said, sliding the door open fully to see him in the dim candlelight. There were purple bruises below his eyes, accentuated by the flickering light. 

"Why are you still awake?" Saito had followed her movements with his eyes as she entered and carefully placed the cup at the side of his desk, one of the only portions of it that was not covered in paper. 

"I couldn't sleep, and I noticed that you were still awake, Saito-san." Chizuru had let a note of disapproval enter her voice, but Saito did not appear to notice. She had poured him a cup and set the pot on the floor. "I made extra in case," she said, gesturing to it.

"Thank you, Yukimura," he had said quietly. 

"You have a lot of paperwork," she had said, eyeing it.

"It's nothing," Saito had said. He had taken the tea and sipped it. Steam still rose from it, but he did not appear to mind.

"You haven't been sleeping much," Chizuru had noted. 

Saito had glanced at her for a second, half-lowering his cup from his face. "It’s nothing."

"And you still go on patrols with your men, too." Chizuru had fought the urge to scold, had kept her tone even.

Saito had looked at her. "You do not need to be worried about me, Yukimura."

"Well, I am anyways," Chizuru had said simply. "You should sleep as soon as you can."

"This is urgent." Saito had nodded at the papers in front of him.

"All of it?" Chizuru had raised her eyebrows.

"I told the Commander I would have it done by the end of the week." Saito took another sip from his cup. "Thank you for the tea, Yukimura."

"It's far too much to have done in the next few days," Chizuru had said. "I'm sure Hijikata-san would understand if-"

"No." Saito had cut her off. "I said I would do it, and I will."

Chizuru had bit back a retort at that, her irritation spurred from frustration. How could he say that, when no one else in the Shinsengumi worked half as hard? She thought of how Nagakura and Harada had been loud and joking over dinner, laughing as Heisuke yelled about how they'd stolen his fish. Saito had been absent.

"You should at least come to dinner, Saito-san." Chizuru had felt her composure wavering and quickly tried to gather herself together. "How will you keep working without eating?"

"I am fine, Yukimura." Saito moved to pick up the brush again, but Chizuru had surprised herself by quickly placing her hand over it before he could reach it. Saito had looked at her, eyes widened.

"Please, Saito-san," she had entreated. "Rest at least once in a while. I - I know your work is important, but if you are exhausted, you cannot do it as efficiently. And - and no one knows when the fighting might start. So you should come to dinner, and you should rest." 

Saito had not moved for a second or two, but looked directly into her eyes. It had not been anything other than somewhat intimidating, but Chizuru had stood her ground and looked directly back at him, eyebrows furrowed. And then he had looked away and sighed, placed the teacup back on the table.

"You should do the same, Yukimura. It is late. Sleep."

"I'm fine," Chizuru had said immediately. Saito had looked at her out of the corner of his eye, one eyebrow raised, and she had flushed, hearing the hypocrisy in her words. "I mean, I do sleep well, normally. And I go to dinner."

Saito had not said anything. 

"And - and -" Chizuru had fumbled for words. "And if you don't come, I - I'm worried about you."

Saito had shut his eyes and rubbed a hand across them. Chizuru had never seen him make such a gesture before - something that appeared to admit some small amount of weakness. It had seemed always like he worked hard to seem diligently awake and fully functional. "You should not worry about me, Yukimura."

Chizuru had shaken her head. "You need to rest, Saito-san."

"I am fine." Saito had shaken his head at her. "Really, Yukimura."

Chizuru had, for a few seconds, fought the urge to continue the argument, but Saito was like a rock immobile in a stream, forcing the water to part around it. Any further pushing she could do would be meaningless. 

"Then…" Chizuru had sighed deeply. "Please. At least come to dinner. And please, at least tell me if you will be up. I will make you a pot of tea."

"Thank you." Saito met her eyes. His eyes, though tired, had softened again. 

"I will go sleep." Chizuru had stood and had sighed again, noticing the stacks of paper around him once again. "And you should soon, as well."

Saito had barely inclined his head at her in acknowledgment of her statement. "Thank you for the tea."

"Yes." Chizuru had nodded, turned, and had rolled open the sliding door when he spoke again.

"Yukimura, though you do not need to be concerned… I appreciate it."

Chizuru had felt the breeze from the cool night flutter the loose parts of her hair that had escaped its cloth binding. "It's… It's the least I can do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a transitional chapter... I promise the next one will make up for it :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters? In three days?? Who _am_ I? 
> 
> Anyways, here's what you've been waiting for.

It had been almost no time at all before the war began, and all at once everything had splintered, slightly. The men left for battle each day, and Chizuru waited in the walls of Toba-Fushimi, pacing. Keeping herself busy. Fetching wet cloth for injured soldiers. Preparing basic food in large quantities. Searching the faces of the injured when they were carried in for a familiar face. And then - when they returned - doing the same to the men who walked home. Praying to the gods as she did so - but, in her fear and desperation, unable to say anything other than his name, over and over: Saito, Saito, Saito.

He had always returned. The second night of fighting, she had approached him hesitantly. "Saito-san."

He had looked at her, dark circles ringing his eyes, dust and dirt still in his hair. She had tried her best to ignore the spattering of brown blood on his clothing, particularly the streaks of what looked like a hand in blood grasping his sleeve. "Yes?"

Chizuru had, for once, absolutely no idea how to begin. The soldiers had been talking about the battle conditions in voices hushed and frantic. Saito's division was missing men - she knew it, despite not knowing their names. The wounded men in the infirmary were dying. And yet Saito's face was shuttered from her - blank. There was a glacier-like stillness to it, giving the impression that she could never truly plumb the depths of his thoughts. That that there was a part of him that she could not reach.

"I… am glad you are safe." The silence had stretched on for too long, so she had spoken the first thought that had come to her - the truth, but it seemed a silly platitude in the face of the war.

Saito had not said anything in response, but had nodded shortly.

Chizuru had not been able to tell his thoughts, but had been unable to leave, so she had stood beside him silently. Several minutes passed before he spoke.

"Okita is being transported to Dr. Matsumoto." 

Chizuru had blinked. Wherever she had expected the conversation to go, it had not been this. "O-Oh, um, yes. Hijikata-san said… said he has tuberculosis. I had no idea."

Saito had looked at the ground. "Yes."

"I… will miss him." Chizuru had found that sentiment to be her first thought, when Hijikata had told the captains. She had found herself surprised at the depth of her sadness at the news. Okita had mocked her and played with her during her early stay, had been mischievous and callously cruel - but he had also been surprisingly perceptive and, on occasion, had stood up for her, although she had assumed it had been to irritate Hijikata. And yet all his energy had gone from him. Tuberculosis. It had seemed so cruel.

"His skill with a blade was valuable to us," Saito had said, staring somewhere directly in front of him, but mind apparently elsewhere. "He was a warrior."

Chizuru had noted the past tense without comment. 

"And," Saito had said, considerably quieter, "I also, Yukimura, will miss him."

Those words, and the unspoken emotion behind them, had caused a sudden warmth behind Chizuru's eyes, which she fought desperately to keep at bay. If Saito recognized her sudden sniffing beside him as a battle against tears, he made no indication of it. 

"The battle," she had said, when she had regained enough confidence that she could speak clearly. "Was it… um…"

"Successful?" Saito had filled in her question. "No."

"Your men…" Chizuru had tried to express her condolences, but had felt her throat close as tears threatened again.

"It is war." Saito had been looking at the dirt in front of them. His expression barely flickered. "They knew it might happen." 

His stoicism in the face of the death around her, above all else, frightened her. For it suggested a peace with death that she (and she knew it was selfishly) wished had not existed. And she could not bear to no longer see him. 

"Please, Saito-san," she had said, voice almost shaking. "Please be safe."

Saito had not spoken for a minute, though it had felt like at least ten. When he did finally respond, it was quiet. "It is war, Yukimura. I… cannot make promises."

Chizuru had not trusted herself, had turned and left. As soon as she had returned to the small room that she was using as a bedroom, deep in the complex to avoid cannon fire, she sat down, still composed. And then she bent over and wept into the floorboards as the night roared with metal and explosions above her.

When the place caught alight, later in the battle, and she had fled, leaving Inoue behind, his shouts ringing in her ears, it had not been Saito who had found her and led her back to the Shinsengumi, although she wished it had been. Nagakura had been angry, touchy, and had tramped through the forests at the speed of arrows shooting from a bow - he had not spent much time for her, and she had been thoroughly exhausted when they had made it to the castle, strung out from physical exertion and the constant fear that ran through her mind - Saito.

"Chizuru!" Heisuke had been thrilled to see her. 

"What, it's Chizuru! You're really okay, even though you had Shinpachi for a guide," Harada had said.

"So you did make it. I'm glad, kid," Hijikata had, in a rare occurrence, smiled to see her.

And then she had seen him, and every single thought of his death had halted in its tracks, and she had had to sit down suddenly as all the tension and anxiety that had been keeping her going melted, all at once, away. Her hands had trembled from relief. Saito.

"Woah, did you run her to the ground or something, Shin?" Heisuke, predictably, had taken it as an opportunity to rib Nagakura.

"You all right?" Harada had grabbed her shoulder, knelt down partially.

Chizuru had shaken her head. "I - I'm fine. Thank you."

"You would have thought you saw a ghost, not Saito," Harada had said wryly.

"N-No," Chizuru had said, attempting to wave them away. "I'm really okay."

"Are you all right, Yukimura?" Saito had asked quietly. He had not stepped any closer, but instead stood slightly outside the circle of people around her. And yet he was breathing - alive - seemingly unhurt.

"I'm really fine, Saito-san," Chizuru had said, and then had been slightly overwhelmed by the truth of that statement. Tears had fallen from her eyes before she could realize they were coming. "I'm so glad."

They had insisted, then, that she must be exhausted from the journey, so they pushed her into a spare room and shut the door, telling her to sleep. Despite her protests, as soon as she had unwillingly laid down, she must have fallen asleep, for her next memories were of staring, dazed, at the ceiling. 

She had been hungry and uncertain of the time, but when she had slid open the door to her room, she had forgotten all of that upon seeing a certain figure sitting on the veranda outside her room.

"Saito-san."

He had turned to look at her, the moon hanging low on the horizon above them. "You're awake."

Had he been waiting up for her? She had walked slowly to the edge of the veranda and, gingerly due to the soreness in her muscles from following Nagakura for the previous week, sat herself down beside him. She could feel the press of his gaze on her, and so turned to look back at him. "You are as well. It's late, isn't it?"

Saito had tilted his head slightly in what might have been almost a shrug. "It is."

"You… made it safely here." Chizuru had smiled. "I'm so glad."

Saito had nodded, his eyes still on her. Chizuru had been slightly uneasy under the intensity of his gaze. She had avoided thinking of 'longing,' or synonyms of it, but the word came to her mind unbidden. Something she had not seen in him, fully realized. But then he had turned away and looked out at the garden, and the moment was broken.

They had sat in silence for a minute or two. Chizuru had shut her eyes, content in the quiet moment - the breeze softly moving against her clothing, the still night air, and the quiet breathing of the man beside her. And then Chizuru had felt a brush of a hand against her cheek and startled, turning quickly to see Saito looking back at her.

"I… am also glad you are safe," he had said, voice lower. His hand had rested around her cheek, as though to keep her looking at him. Chizuru had involuntarily fought a shiver when his fingers brushed her ear, quickly putting a piece of hair behind it.

"Um, yes - um…" Chizuru's sentence, which had been fully formed in her mind before she had started speaking, petered off as Saito seemed, imperceptibly, to lean slightly closer. 

"Yukimura," Saito had said softly, his words so quiet she doubted anyone who walked past them could even have heard. "I… think I understand."

"What?" Chizuru had been startled enough by his words to forget the situation, and how fast her heart was beating at being so close to him. "What do you mean, Saito-san?"

He had continued to look at her seriously. "You have spoken of being worried about me. I am sure I have given you enough reason to do so."

"But you're safe now," Chizuru had said, uncomprehending.

"As are you." Saito's expression had suddenly grown more serious. "But Yukimura, I never - I never want to be worried about you like that again."

"Be worried about -" Chizuru had repeated the words without thinking before the meaning struck her. "O-Oh."

"You are - protecting you is a part of my duty," Saito had said, eyes on hers, before he had glanced to the side. "And… Yukimura, I…"

Chizuru had barely dared breathe.

His voice had gotten so quiet she could barely hear. "I… I do not wish to see you hurt."

"I am fine, though, Saito-san." Chizuru had smiled up at him, her heart swelling from his words. For though on the lips of any other man, they would have been barely a kindness, she knew that for Saito, it was something more meaningful. She had raised her hands up between them, as though to demonstrate their wholeness. "See?"

"And how easy it would have been if you had not been, Yukimura." Saito had suddenly begun speaking quickly. "The war - we were overrun. And if you had not found Nagakura, by chance - if Inoue-san had been half the man - if you had been caught in the fire -"

Chizuru had, before thinking about it, reached up and touched his lips. Saito had frozen in place immediately, growing rigid beneath her touch. She had quickly realized the forwardness of the action and retracted her hand as though she had been burned, only to have Saito catch her hand as she tried to pull away. 

They had stared at each other for a second. Chizuru remembered feeling her entire body warm up at his gaze, which was searching her for something. Within a few seconds, he appeared to have gotten his answer. His hand had tugged, slightly, at her hand, and pulled her forward slightly, and then his head had ducked to hers and Chizuru had barely moved as his lips brushed hers tentatively - warm, soft, like nothing she had felt before. Heat had shot straight to her stomach, and she had almost trembled as he pulled away from her, his eyes meeting hers almost hesitantly. Chizuru had been smiling slightly without realizing it, and whatever he saw in her face made him look away, his cheeks flushed. It had all occurred in the space of about five seconds, and Chizuru would remember it for the rest of her life.

Saito had released her hand and turned back to the sky as though nothing had happened, though when he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically shaky. Predictably, perhaps, he had attempted to change the subject. "You - must be hungry, Yukimura." 

"What?" Chizuru had been almost giddy with joy and surprise and had not quite been able to grasp the mundane topic of his sentence.

Saito had cleared his throat. "You missed two meals."

"Oh, yes," Chizuru had still been unable to wipe the smile from her face. "I feel all right, though."

"I… see." Saito had glanced at her for a second and then looked away again. "If you are hungry, I believe someone left you food in the kitchen."

"All right," Chizuru had said. "Um, thank you for letting me know, Saito-san."

Saito had nodded once. They had stared out into the garden together for a few seconds before Chizuru, emboldened by unabashed happiness, moved herself slightly closer to him (and had known he had noticed, by the way he had stilled) and leaned her side into his, her arm along his and her cheek against his shoulder. It was slightly uncomfortable, and she had to stay rather still so that she did not tip over onto his lap (for she did not quite dare, yet, despite her newfound boldness, to cling onto him with an arm around his waist, and he had not moved to grasp her), but she could feel his warmth through their clothing, and was happy enough to be close to him.

They had remained like that for a while before Saito had said, quietly, "It is late, Yukimura, and you should rest." 

Chizuru had, despite the slightly uncomfortable position, been warm and still wide awake because of Saito's presence. "All right. Are you going to sleep as well, Saito-san?"

"Yes." Saito had waited patiently to move before Chizuru had straightened, and then he stood, and she quickly followed. 

"Then… good night." Chizuru had smiled at him, and Saito had also nodded, slightly smiling, back at her.

"Good night, Yukimura."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: I'm aware I moved Okita out of the picture earlier than in the game, but he is not much of a player in this story... and I liked putting the conversation here.
> 
> :) Hope the kiss was worth the wait... It's not much of a kiss, but then again, this is Saito we're talking about. 
> 
> As always, I love receiving comments... please let me know what you thought of the piece, and thanks so much for reading! I hope to have the next chapter out soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As virtuous men pass mildly away,  
> And whisper to their souls to go,  
> Whilst some of their sad friends do say  
> The breath goes now, and some say, No
> 
> So let us melt, and make no noise
> 
> \- John Donne  
> 

She had not had the time to speak to Saito one-on-one before their ship left for Edo, because the preparations that everyone had to make before boarding had been absorbing each one of the captains, and Chizuru herself had been asked the next morning to look over Yamazaki, whose wounds from Toba-Fushimi had been severe. It was in this way that she had eventually boarded a ship for the first time in her life: clutching medical supplies and her own small chest of belongings, with Yamazaki slumped in Shimada's arms at her side.

She had been unable to watch the waves breaking on their prow as they set off to Edo, as she would have liked to, as Yamazaki's condition had worsened. He had suddenly become startlingly - frighteningly - ill soon after boarding, his face drenched with sweat, and Chizuru sat with him, fear clenching her stomach like a vise. Her father had been a doctor, but she had only learned remedial first aid. And yet she was the closest thing the Shinsengumi had to a medic on board. Chizuru had mopped his face with cold cloths dunked in the sea (for fresh water had been precious on board) and prayed silently above him. Had forced herself to quell her urge to weep at the groaning Yamazaki tried very hard to suppress when she dressed his wounds as best she could. Despite her lack of sleep, she had forced herself to be vigilant, for in care of the ill, death could come in days - or in minutes.

Late on the second day (or, at least, she had surmised it to be late, given the little light that entered the cabin as they had opened the door), Hijikata and Saito had entered. Saito's face, which had previously caused Chizuru's heart to tighten each time she had seen it since their moment alone in the garden, could not even stir her thoughts from the man dying in front of her.

"Yamazaki," Hijikata had said without preamble, as soon as he had entered. "How are you holding up?"

"Chief," Yamazaki had said in an attempt at normalcy, despite how his face had been drawn tight with pain. "Saito. It… is nothing."

Chizuru had winced, but had not said anything to object to his attempt to save face. For it had been obvious. The knowledge of Yamazaki's impending death was written over Saito and Hijikata's face, etched into Saito's tired eyes and Hijikata's thin-lipped smile at his subordinate. 

"We're halfway there, Yamazaki," Hijikata had said. "And we'll get you to see a doctor when we get there."

"I… am glad." Chizuru had been able to see it was an effort for Yamazaki to keep his words coherent.

"Yamazaki-san," Chizuru had said quietly, "I think you should try not to talk, if possible. Your wounds might -"

"No," Yamazaki had said, louder, half-sitting up in the bed, and then had visibly winced at the force of his own action. Chizuru had bit her lip. "Chief, I -"

"Rest," Hiikata had said bluntly. "If you wanted to kill yourself, just get a short sword and Saito will be your second. No need to kill yourself to talk."

"But -" Yamazaki had relented at the look in Hijikata's eyes. He gradually nodded, lowered himself back on the bed. "Yes, sir."

"We just wanted to check in on you. And Saito is here to relieve you of your shift, kid." Hijikata had nodded in Chizuru's direction. 

Chizuru had started. "Oh - no, I'm fine. It's okay."

"It's been two days." Saito had walked around to the edge of the bed where she had been sitting. "You have not slept."

"I'm more resilient than I look," Chizuru had said firmly, forcing herself to believe it, despite the way the ship's rocking had occasionally put her off balance, and how her eyes were not properly focusing all the time.

Saito had merely looked at her until she had been forced to look away, knowing he could see right through her. 

"Yamazaki needs someone who's awake to care for him." Hijikata had said shortly. "Get some rest and come back."

"I - I want to stay," Chizuru had said. She had been the only person with any medical training. Even if Yamazaki's condition was not improving, she had a responsibility to be there.

Hijikata had given her a look. "Kid, I just said -"

"If she wants to stay here, Commander, she can sleep here." Saito had cut Hijikata off so smoothly that for a second Hijikata merely stopped and looked at Saito in surprise. Chizuru had stopped short, too, to see Saito interrupting the man he respected most.

"Where?" Hijikata had asked roughly, eyeing his third captain.

Chizuru had seen and taken her opening. "I - I can sleep for a few hours on the ground. But I need to be here if anything happens."

Hijikata had looked at her, and then at Saito, and then back at her, his expression impenetrably cold. "You want to sleep on the ground, kid?"

"Yes." Chizuru had met his gaze with all the resolve she had left.

Hijikata had, to her surprise, rolled his eyes. Later, Chizuru would wonder if this was a misremembered event or a fiction. "Fine." He then had glanced back at Saito. "You make sure she gets sleep, Saito."

"Of course, sir." Saito had nodded. 

"Fine. Good." Hijikata had turned his gaze back to the patient, still lying down. "Yamazaki, hang in there."

"Yes, Chief." Yamazaki had nodded shortly. "I am fine."

"Good." Hijikata had nodded again, and left.

Saito had turned back to Chizuru. "You need sleep."

"I - I really can stay up a few more hours," Chizuru had said, but had known even as she said it that her resolve was wavering.

"I told the Commander that I would see you rest, and I will." Saito had looked at her flatly. "I can sit where you are now while you sleep."

"You'll wake me if anything happens," Chizuru had said, in a tone somewhere between a demand and a question.

"Yes."

Saito had met her eyes calmly, and this had relaxed her. She had glanced around the tiny cabin. The area was mostly stocked with storage boxes, but a small area was clear except for a few coils of rope to the side. "All right. I - I'll go lie down there."

Chizuru had felt Saito's gaze on her back as she had settled herself into a seated, and then a reclining position. Somehow, lying down seemed more vulnerable than sitting with him looking at her, and her ears reddened despite herself. "I - I am going to sleep, Saito-san," she said, in a tone that seemed almost petulant, even to her own ears. "You don't need to make sure."

There was a small huff somewhere above her: Saito's almost laugh. "I see." Despite her words, she had heard a rustle of cloth, and he had suddenly appeared over her. Chizuru had immediately sat up, flushing at his sudden proximity despite herself, all thoughts of Yamazaki forgotten.

Saito had held out a bundle of cloth in his hands. She instantly recognized it. "You have no pillow. Use this." 

She had shaken her head. "I can't use your Shinsengumi haori as a pillow, Saito-san. It's your uniform."

Saito had looked at her flatly once more. "I have no need for it at the present moment."

"I can't," Chizuru had said firmly.

Saito had suddenly, unexpectedly, smiled slightly. "The haori I gave you… You made the same fuss about it."

Chizuru's eyes had widened. Kyoto, and the kitchen there, rose so easily to memory. The chill of the early morning when she had found his haori folded upon a chair. The verandas upon which she had sat, long ago, with Saito. Peaceful days. It had been four years already.

"That - I still owe you for that," Chizuru had said, attempting to reemerge from the memories she had been suddenly thrust into.

"No," Saito had said. "Just use it, Yukimura. Rest."

"I can't," Chizuru had said.

Saito had suddenly reached down, grasped her hand, and forcibly placed the haori into it. 

"But -" Chizuru's protests had finally fallen quiet when Saito had given her a firm look, not altogether unlike the one Hijikata had given her earlier. "…Thank you, Saito-san."

"It is nothing." Saito stood and returned to the crate she had used as a stool to keep vigil over Yamazaki. "Sleep."

"I will. Thank you, Saito-san." Chizuru had slowly unfurled the haori and refolded it carefully into a pillow, and then laid down once more. The scent was now familiar to her, although this piece of clothing was a little more tinged with blood. And before she had processed the thought, she was asleep.

"Yukimura."

"Mmmn." Chizuru had not been able to speak. Her back ached in several places, and there had been a strange rocking motion to her bedroom that was unnerving. And she was so tired.

"Yukimura, wake up." Saito. Recognizing the voice suddenly had woken her, and Chizuru had sat bolt upright, remembering. Yamazaki. Something must be wrong.

Saito was kneeling beside her, but she had momentarily ignored him. Even from the distance she was from the bed, she could see Yamazaki's face was flecked with spittle and blood. "It is Yamazaki," Saito had said, unnecessarily, but before he had finished Chizuru had unsteadily risen and hurried to the side of the bed.

"What happened?" she asked quickly, thoughts racing. The bandages around his wounds were now, too, stained with blood.

"He has been coughing," Saito had said quietly, suddenly a silent presence at her side. 

"And it's been damaging his wounds," Chizuru had filled in, horror rising in her, closing her throat. "Oh, no."

"It is… fine." Yamazaki's eyes had been barely open, and it had seemed as though every inch of his body was tensed against the pain. His voice had been thicker than she had heard it before, as though there was more blood somewhere in his throat. "Yukimura…"

"Yes?" Chizuru's heart had leapt in her throat. 

"Get… the chief." Yamazaki had begun coughing again, and Chizuru had shut her eyes to see it - it had been the kind of cough that came from the chest, the kind that wrenched one's whole body with motion. The moan that emerged from Yamazaki when the coughing spell had finished was straight from the dying on the battlefield that she had heard in Toba-Fushimi. 

"I will go," Saito had said immediately. "Yukimura, do not leave his side."

"Of course not," Chizuru had said, but Saito had already left the room. She had hardly seen him move so fast outside of battle.

"Yamazaki-san, please, hang in there." Heat had pricked her eyes at her own helplessness. "I - I'm going to wipe your face."

"Yes." Yamazaki's voice was almost inaudible. Chizuru had picked up the cloth with shaking hands and carefully wiped the spittle and blood from his face and neck. 

Yamazaki's eyes had closed at her ministrations, and fear suddenly gripped her. Memories of her father telling patients to stay awake swam unbidden to the front of her mind. "Please, Yamazaki-san, don't close your eyes." 

"I am… fine… Yukimura." Yamazaki had not opened his eyes. She had placed the cloth back in its bowl, finished, and surveyed him, hands still trembling.

Suddenly, Yamazaki's eyes had opened and he stiffened, attempting quickly to sit up. His eyes had been wide and - Chizuru had almost cried to see the emotion in them - fearful. "Yukimura, the - the Chief. You - You must go to get the Chief."

She had been able to see, clearly, the effort he had been making to sit up, even slightly. His body had trembled. "S-Saito-san just left to get him, Yamazaki-san, r-remember? He - He'll be back soon, please just wait. He'll come soon." Chizuru had unknowingly grasped at Yamazaki's hand and, with her other, forced him back into a reclining position. 

It had not been a second before his head had once more touched his pillow that another coughing spell hit. This one had been more violent than the first, and Chizuru had thought, far too late, that his effort to sit up and speak coherently had likely strained him more than he could handle. 

Her memory of it was a blur - Chizuru could only recall the pressure of his hand clenching hers as though to break her bones. The sudden slackening of his grip. The wheezing noises he had begun to make, and the sudden, wet coughs that had spluttered out.

When the door had burst open, two sets of feet running in, Chizuru had already broken down into sobs. 

The entire rest of the night and much of the next day had been lost to her, somehow. Some mixture of horror and sleep deprivation had erased it from her mind. Later, she would be told that Saito had escorted her from the room. That Yamazaki had been buried at sea that morning. No one would say that she had attempted without success to cease her tears, that she had made several heartfelt apologies of varying coherencies to Hijikata that she had been unable to save his spy (all of which Hijikata summarily told her were unnecessary), or that Saito had been asked to stay in her room to ensure that she slept and did not do anything rash.

She had awoken, for the second time in around a day, to Saito's voice, although she could not actually make out the words he had been speaking lowly to a figure just outside her room's door.

Chizuru had never felt herself to be particularly strong, but in that moment, she had never felt weaker. The blurry memories from the previous night struck her as the pathetic actions of a child who forgot her place in the Shinsengumi, who had forgotten that she was merely a visitor with no place sobbing over the body of a man whom the other captains had known much longer. And she, while not remembering the specifics, could remember that she had made a bit of a scene attempting to apologize to Hijikata. 

"You are awake." Saito's voice had pulled her into the present again, and Chizuru cringed to see him still steadfastly looking at her, the figure in the doorway evidently gone. Saito had seen her actions - utterly unable to save Yamazaki, sobbing over him when she had no place to do so. He had seen how utterly unworthy she was of the kindnesses the Shinsengumi had given her. 

When she had not responded immediately, Saito had continued. "You have slept for the better part of a day."

"I…" Chizuru had paused at the raspiness of her voice, apparently brought on by the stress and tears from the night previous. "I am so sorry, Saito-san."

"You do not need to apologize." Saito had continued to look at her evenly, and Chizuru had faltered under his gaze. "You are no doctor. And it was evident from Yamazaki's condition that even Matsumoto-sensei's ministrations would have been ineffective."

"But I… I should have done more." Chizuru had sat up and bent over her legs in her small cot. "And… and I made such a scene. I am so, so sorry."

Saito had paused for a second, and the pause had, in Chizuru's eyes, confirmed her fears. He did think poorly of her, now. She had bent her head further over her covers, unable to look up. 

"Yukimura, you had not slept more than an hour in two days," Saito had said. "The Commander was not upset that you were distraught, if you are concerned about it."

"But I… I was so ineffective." Chizuru had been unable to stop herself from continuing to speak to her covers beneath her, the guilt pushing her forwards. "If - If I had been a warrior… Hijikata-san, he could have justified asking me to commit suicide. I - I - I c-couldn't do what - the only thing I've been asked to do here… I'm so sorry, Saito-san!"

She had covered her face with her hands, and then stopped for a second at the sudden tilting of the bed at her side - the sudden warmth of a body touching her side. 

"Yukimura." Saito's voice had contained a new hint of urgency. "Stop this."

"I… I couldn't save him," Chizuru had continued. The words, almost separate from herself, had continued to come, like a deluge emerging from between rocks in a stream. "He - He didn't even get to see Hijikata-san… o-one last t-time…" 

Her words had been lost in the tears and muffled by her hands, which she had still been unable to push away from her face. 

"Yukimura." Saito's voice had been close to her, quiet and firm. "Look at me."

"It - It's all my f-fault, Saito-san," Chizuru had said. "I - I couldn’t-"

She had been cut off in surprise when Saito had gripped her wrists and pulled them, more gently than she had expected, from her face. She had immediately turned away as best as she could, still unwilling to let him see her face. "Yukimura. Stop this."

"I - and I had no right to be so upset," Chizuru had said, finally able to air all of her fears. "You - You, and all the captains, you knew him better, and I was - I don't deserve to mourn him -"

"Yukimura, silence!" Saito's voice had suddenly gone cold and commanding. She had heard the tone only a handful of times before, mostly when he had spoken to his men, and the shock of it had caused her to turn and look at him, had forced her mouth to shut almost immediately.

"Stop saying such things." Saito had sounded himself again, and his face, now that she had looked at it, was serious. "No one blames you. Do not make me repeat that again."

"But, I -"

"Yukimura." Saito had narrowed his eyes slightly at her, and she had fallen silent. "Additionally, mourning is not something one deserves or does not deserve to do. You were distraught at his death because he was a good man. It is right that we should mourn him appropriately." 

Chizuru had started again. "I couldn't -" 

Saito had released one of her hands and had gently touched her lips. She had frozen in surprise, recognizing the motion and shocked by it. 

"Do not make me repeat myself." Saito's voice, despite his words, was soft. His hand fell from her face. They looked at each other silently for a second, and Chizuru had known that he had spoken the truth. That perhaps she had overreacted. That he did not hate her, nor blame her. That he had still remembered how they had kissed, and perhaps he did not regret it. 

"I… I am sorry, Saito-san." Chizuru flushed, both at the tingle in her lips at the brush of his fingers, and from her embarrassment about her outburst. Saito nodded once. She knew without any further sign that he had understood the meaning of the words - apologizing for her outbursts. "Th-Thank you."

"It is nothing." Saito had stood up, getting off the bed. "The Commander has said you should rest for the remainder of the journey."

"I - I'm really okay," Chizuru had attempted. Saito had turned to look at her, and she had wilted. "O-Okay. Um, I'll be here, then." 

Saito had smiled slightly. "Rest, Yukimura."

"Okay." Chizuru had flushed again at his smile. 

When she had woken up again, there was a small cup of tea at her side that had become lukewarm. It was not quite as good as her own tea, she knew objectively - the leaves had been steeped for a little too long, and had become bitter and grassy - but she had thought she had never quite enjoyed a cup of tea so much in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always wondered why Chizuru never has more of a reaction to Yamazaki's death in the game - presumably, as the only one with medical experience out of those on board, she would have been tending to him. 
> 
> Apologies for the necessary, canonical tragedy. Hopefully it isn't overdone. Chizuru goes into shock afterwards - if that seems overdone, I'm not as apologetic. I think that's likely how someone in her situation, with her at times self-critical personality, would have reacted. 
> 
> As a side note, now you finally know where the piece's title came from, if you haven't already looked up the poem from the stanzas I posted in the first chapter. 
> 
> As ever, please let me know your thoughts in the comments. Thank you so much for reading :)


	11. Chapter 11

Their time in Shinagawa began, of course, with tea, as well. Hijikata had left several days' previously to meet with shogunate officials, and Kondou had also disappeared to go to Hino, his home city. The captains had been antsy - Harada and Nagakura were spending more nights in the red-light district than nights at the compound - and Shimada, apparently recognizing this, had called for another round of tea after dinner one night when conversation had been particularly heated. 

When Chizuru had returned with it, the captains had been deep in discussion about politics. 

"Well, what are we supposed to do without Hijikata-san?" Harada had raised an eyebrow at Nagakura.

"We sure as hell shouldn't be wasting our time speaking to the officials, those sons of bitches -" Nagakura had said loudly, before he suddenly noticed Chizuru entering. "Oh - sorry, Chizuru - my bad." 

"Um, no, it's fine," Chizuru had said quickly. She continued to pass out cups. "I - um, I don't really mind."

"We can only wait," Saito had said quietly, as though the aside had not occurred. 

Nagakura had turned to look at him. "Morale is falling like a stone, and we just sit on our asses here?"

"We have no choice," Saito had said, voice even. "We cannot act without their approval."

Shimada had cleared his throat when Chizuru had set his cup in front of him. "Thank you, Chizuru."

"It's my pleasure," Chizuru had responded quietly, having finally finished passing out the tea. She glanced around the room uncomfortably, seeing Nagakura open his mouth for another retort. "I, um, I think I'll leave you to it. Please let me know when I should get the plates."

"We can get the plates, Chizuru-chan," Harada had said. "Take a break for once."

"It's a waste of time," Nagakura had begun again. "The Imperial Army is using this time and we're just sitting on our asses -"

"Um, please excuse me, then," Chizuru had murmured, in full knowledge that she could not get a word past Nagakura when he got started, and exited the room without waiting to hear any more.

She had stopped just outside the door and let out a long sigh, resting her head against the wooden doorframe as soon as the door was shut. The tension in the compound was strung tightly enough to feel like a knot between her shoulder blades, constantly pressing at her. And in the absence of Hijikata, some of the men had become more rowdy - not Nagakura, or any of the other captains, but the rank-and-file soldiers. They often came back at odd hours, drunk and loud, and woke her from her sleep with singing and shouting. And Saito was once more busy with his men, apparently trying to placate them as best he could. All the captains were equally busy. Apparently, the fall-out from the horrors of Toba-Fushimi had still been occurring.

"Excuse me," a familiar voice had said just behind her, and she had straightened from the door frame just in time to see Saito exit, carrying his plates. "Ah - Yukimura."

"Saito-san," she had said, somewhat embarrassed to be found resting. "Um, sorry, I was just taking a minute."

"Not at all." Saito had shut the door behind him with a snap and then begun to walk alongside her to the kitchen.

"Is… Is it going to be okay?" Chizuru had asked hesitantly, once she assumed they were a far enough distance away from the door.

Saito had not responded, but had raised an eyebrow at her. 

"I mean, is it going to be okay - with Nagakura-san, and everyone?" Chizuru had not quite been able to find a way to word the question that encompassed all of her worries on the matter.

Saito had been quiet for a second before he responded. "All we can do is wait for the Commander to return and do whatever he asks."

This had not quite been the affirmative answer that Chizuru had looked for, and the way he had avoided her question caused her stomach to constrict slightly. "I… see."

"I am going to ask the Commander that you come with us," Saito had said suddenly. "To Kofu."

"What?" Chizuru had blinked, stopping in her tracks. "To… Kofu Castle?"

"Yes." She had quickly hurried up to him again as he continued to speak. "There have been a series of murders in Edo."

"Murders?" Chizuru had almost halted before she remembered she had to continue keeping his pace.

"Yes." Saito had glanced at her for a second, evaluating. "There… are rumors that yurei with white hair are stalking the city after nightfall."

"White…" Chizuru had halted, that time, and Saito had stopped at her side. His eyes had bored into hers for a second and she had shut her mouth before she said what she had thought - the Fury Corps. 

"It may be dangerous here." Saito had looked around them. Only a lone soldier stood in the courtyard practicing his kata in the heat of the day. 

"I… see." Chizuru had nodded. "I understand, Saito-san. Thank you for thinking of me."

"It's nothing." Saito had turned and continued.

Evidently, his petition to Hijikata had worked, as Chizuru had eventually found herself joining the soldiers at Kofu as one of the few without a new, Westernized outfit. And, of course, while the clothes did suit all the soldiers well, Chizuru had not failed to notice how it had fit Saito. His family crest, the flower on his lapel, was stitched in golden embroidery, and Chizuru self-consciously thought that it was a lovely one before cutting off the thought before it went further.

Saito had (rather predictably) been placed in the front lines, and he had only been able to make a curt nod to her before leaving, as she had to stay behind with the soldiers who could not fight. And of course, Kofu had gone much the same way that Toba-Fushimi had - soldiers shrieking in pain, the rattling bang of gunfire, and a running escape, this time with Kondou instead of Inoue. 

The wait for the soldiers to return had, once more, been long. Chizuru had paced back and forth in fear while Kondou sat deep in thought, with some sort of dumbstruck horror in his expression that she had not had the emotional energy to parse through. When the other captains had returned without Saito, and without Harada as well, Nagakura had sat down and avoided her eyes. She had sat as well.

No one had said anything for a minute. And then, finally, feeling as though she would explode, Chizuru spoke. "Harada-san and Saito-san…?"

"They're coming." Nagakura had been looking at the table. All of the captains' expressions had been grim, streaked with dust and blood. Chizuru had nodded once, feeling her stomach twist once more. They had been left behind on that battlefield. 

"Chizuru," Kondou had said unexpectedly, "why don't you go get some rest?"

"I'm fine," Chizuru had said. Leaving the room had not been an option. Somehow, it felt as though Saito would not come back if she did.

"Leave, kid." Hijikata's voice suddenly emerged from the doorway.

When Chizuru looked up, she almost slumped forward onto the table before her with relief. Saito and Harada were just behind him, faces grim. Saito's expression was especially pained, and Chizuru half-stood as though she could go tend to his wounds, Hijikata's words forgotten.

"Get some rest, Chizuru," Harada had said. His words had not been harsh, but there was something dismissive in them that she finally picked up on. The captains wanted to speak, alone. And so, with one final glance at them - her gaze lingering on Saito - she had left.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day, Harada and Nagakura had packed their things and left the Shinsengumi. Apparently, the cracks between the captains had become too much for the organization to bear. Something had to break. Chizuru had seen them off, quietly waving at their backs until they had disappeared, and then had gone inside the gates and wept. When she had returned to her room, she had found a note written in exceedingly messy handwriting that had been signed Harada Sanosuke. The letter was short - only about five lines - and the last two were: "Take care of Saito. He needs it."

But it had been becoming increasingly difficult to take care of Saito, even with Harada's words in her ears, and even though she desired to do so herself. He had begun to shut himself in his room once again once they moved locations to the hatamoto, and would not admit her, even if she knocked with tea. They had been having that same conversation when she had finally figured out why he had been pushing her, and the rest of the world, away.

"Please leave it outside," Saito had said, his voice muffled by the silk screen between them. 

"I can pour it for you," Chizuru had said firmly, "if you let me in."

Silence.

"It will only take a second, Saito-san," Chizuru had said, finally letting her voice become pleading. "Please."

"I -" Saito's voice had suddenly been cut off by a noise she had never heard him make before - a choking noise, almost like a grunt. She had heard similar from soldiers who had had the air knocked out of them during practice duels outside during her time in Kyoto. Chizuru had frozen, her thoughts immediately turning to the worst. There could be no assassins here, could there? Perhaps he had fallen down. 

"I'm coming in," Chizuru had said quickly, this extra concern the final straw. 

"No -" Saito's voice had been strangled, and as she opened the door, she immediately understood why. 

Later, she would realize that she had dropped the serving platter, that she had to replace the tatami mat afterwards, because she had spilled almost a half a pot of perfectly good green tea all over it. She had almost broken a cup, as well. But in the moment, she could only see Saito's hair, short and white, and his eyes, red and narrowed against some sort of unseen pain. Could only see the sweat on his face, dampening his hair. 

"Leave," he had hissed, and Chizuru had immediately ignored him, shutting the door and hurrying to his side. He had turned his face away from her, and from the way his arms had twitched, Chizuru had realized he had almost covered his face. "Go!"

"Saito-san," she had said, somewhere between horror and anxiety, "you drank the Water of Life." 

"Get… out." Saito had managed to almost glare at her, but the desperate heaving of his chest was more upsetting than his attempt at fury. 

"You…" Chizuru had been still struggling to compute the situation. "Was it… at Kofu?"

"Yu… kimura." Saito's voice had sounded as though someone was throttling him. "It will p-pass." 

"Bloodlust," Chizuru had said, so quietly that she could barely hear herself over Saito's ragged breathing. She had tried a pitch louder. "S-Saito-san. Are you… do you…"

"I don't want any!" Saito had looked up furiously, and she had jumped. He bent forwards, hands clenching his arms, knuckles white. It looked almost as though he was attempting to restrain himself. "Leave!"

"You… need it." Chizuru had frozen for a second. 

Looking back on the moment, she wondered if it had not been some kind of survival instinct that had thrown her forward - some sort of desperate urge to keep him safe and healthy. The logic at the time had been so… easy. Saito had needed blood. She had blood in her veins. She had a kodachi at her side. Thus, she could cut her wrist. 

Saito had not been looking at her when she had first begun to unsheath the sword, but he immediately looked at her when he heard the noise of it rattling in its scabbard, and then had choked as she - almost in a daze - had run it across her arm. Sharp pain had splintered across her arm and she had winced, hands trembling. 

He had spluttered. "You -"

"You - you need blood, right, Saito-san?" Chizuru had held out her arm as steadily as she could, even though the horrified expression on his face had been almost worse than the pain she had seen in it seconds before. 

"How - how can you…" Saito had choked again on a gasp of pain. "Why -"

"Drink mine," Chizuru had said. "It - it doesn't hurt."

"You…" Saito had looked away from her immediately, but she had seen (and it had made her hair stand on end) the hunger flash in his eyes. 

"I'm really okay, Saito-san." Chizuru had known somehow, intuitively, what to say. She had offered her arm again, putting it closer to him. About five, tense seconds had passed. And then Saito had moved forward.

Saito's hands had shaken as he took her arm, and as his head bent down, he had been wordless. Chizuru had firmly looked somewhere else, feeling as though he wanted her to forget this was happening, and then she had stiffened as his tongue began to trace the cut on her wrist. Heat spread through her cheeks, and Chizuru had bit her lip. It felt far too intimate for what it was - for it was like medicine, she had told herself. It was like a cure for his pain.

Saito had drawn back, seconds later, and heaved a shaky sigh of… what might have been relief, or might have been guilt. 

"I'm… sorry." His voice had been so quiet that she almost had not heard him.

"I - I was the person who - who offered, Saito-san." Chizuru did not look at him, feeling somehow that he still did not want her to see him in his state. The wall hanging she was looking at was of a forest of bamboo. 

"Why," he had said. There had been no inflection to the word. 

Chizuru had finally turned to look at him. His hair had been black, again, but his eyes were firmly avoiding hers. "You - you needed help, Saito-san."

His thumb traced the small cut on her arm that had already healed. "Why?" His voice was barely above a breath, and Chizuru felt as though he was not asking her the question anymore.

They had sat like that in silence for a minute longer, and then he had gotten up and left. Chizuru had stayed, sitting quietly, for a length of time that she still had no measure of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, Saito's a Fury now. It had to happen somehow, and I thought Kofu would be the most relevant place.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you thought about the chapter in the comments! I'd love to hear from you.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for keeping you all waiting... Enjoy.

Only a day or so after, the Shinsengumi had moved to Nagaoka Mansion. Chizuru had begun to think that each room she inhabited was the same, after all - though the walls were different, and the positioning of her room in the greater building was unfamiliar, her small possessions were the same, and herself the same, and thus she could remake the room to imitate the others that she had lived in, even years ago. She had begun to find some comfort in that regularity, at least. 

Saito had avoided her successfully for around two weeks after the move. Chizuru, for her part, had begun to tell herself that there could be nothing as painful as thinking that he was dead, as she had for a few, strained minutes, waiting for him to return from Kofu, and thus she contented herself with the fact that he was alive. That there could be nothing, here, that would threaten his life.

And - she had avoided thinking about this part - there was the fact that he could, quite legitimately, have been disgusted by her actions. She had cut her arm open and forced him to drink her blood. He could be horrified by her. Repulsed by her. But these thoughts were not helpful, and Chizuru had resolved to push them away by attempting to be the busiest person in the compound. 

She had begun, over time, to spend more time with Kondou. Hijikata had informed her to keep an eye on him, and so Chizuru often spent afternoons bringing tea and a small snack to wherever Kondou had chosen to read that day. The book varied - from historical battles to real-life narratives of war - but Kondou mostly read and sighed, and Chizuru felt that, on some level, the quiet anguish they both felt was similar.

"Here is your tea, Kondou-san." Chizuru had entered once to find him sitting with the book folded neatly in front of him, his arms crossed.

"Ah, Yukimura-kun." He had smiled at her, and for once it had seemed more genuine than fraught by other, less welcoming emotions. "I was waiting for you."

"Oh." Chizuru had paused for a second before kneeling and pouring him a cup of tea. "What is it that you need, Kondou-san?"

"I've been thinking." He had turned slightly to look outside, to where the screen doors had been opened to the trees outside the house.

"I see." Chizuru had set the cup just before him, but Kondou had appeared lost in thought, still gazing at one of the trees as a breeze gently ran through the room.

"You are so young, Chizuru-chan." When he had turned to look at her, his eyes had been warm. "For a young woman to be caught up in this war…" He had broken off, shaking his head. "I regret that you had to be involved in all of this."

Chizuru had stirred uncomfortably. "It's really all right, Kondou-san. I should be thanking you for all the trouble you've gone to for me."

"You are about the same age as my daughter." Kondou had appeared to have not heard her. "And she will be marrying soon."

Chizuru had blinked. "I see."

"And yet you - we appear to have tied you to us for far too long." Kondou had looked at her, directly, his eyes somehow piercing. "I should apologize."

"N-No," Chizuru had stuttered, surprised at his word choice. Tied like a dog, or bound like a criminal. "No, Kondou-san, I am so grateful for your care for me all this time."

"I fear this comes too late," he had said, as though she hadn't spoken. He had reached one hand into his pocket and withdrew something that clinked. A pouch. He had weighed it in his hands as though contemplating it a second longer. "But I want you to have this, Yukimura-kun."

Chizuru had frozen in place again, shocked. Money. "I couldn't possibly accept -"

"No." Kondou-san had cut her off neatly. "I insist. You have worked for us for so long and we never paid you. This is for all the work you have done - we have owed it to you for years."

Chizuru, wordless, had shaken her head. But she had not been a servant owed dues, or a captain owed a salary. She had worked because she had been living off of them like a leech. For she was useless on the battlefield - could only clean, cook, and make tea. 

"I insist, Yukimura-kun." His eyes had been warm but still had contained that direct, intense look in them she had noticed before. "Take it. I think it is time that we let you go. You should be happy. Please. Find yourself a husband, have children - find happiness. It is high time that the Shinsengumi allowed you to be free."

"I…" Chizuru had been unable to find words. Freedom. The word had rung hollow in her ears. Leaving the Shinsengumi would not bring her happiness, and she had known it. A tree had grown outside her house in Edo at an unnatural angle; her father had explained, in the quiet, all-knowledgeable way he normally did, that the tree bent so to find light. If she was not with the Shinsengumi - with Saito, she had amended, embarrassed - she, too, would constantly be bending unnaturally, striving towards him. Her source of… she would not say light. Something more meaningful. His eyes, accepting, and his hand, holding hers. 

"Please." And Kondou had held out the bag to her with both hands.

"I cannot." Chizuru had steeled herself for the look of resigned acceptance, or perhaps hurt, on Kondou's face. "Please, Kondou-san, I cannot accept it. I am not owed anything, and I am happy here with the Shinsengumi. Please, do not ask me to accept it."

"You have no need to stay here any longer." Kondou had searched her face for a second, but whatever he found apparently satisfied him that she had been serious, and he had lowered the money pouch. "I admit, I'm confused, Chizuru-chan." 

"It…" Chizuru had thought of how she could phrase it so that it was not about Saito. "I am very happy here."

"This is truly no place for a young woman like you." Kondou's eyes had been heavy with something sad as he looked on her, and Chizuru had thought that he, suddenly, had looked old, though she had always thought him to appear young for his age. "This war… Chizuru-chan, I do not wish you to see it. No more than I would wish my daughter to see it. You should be happy."

"I am, Kondou-san." Chizuru had nodded reassuringly at him. "I am happy - here." 

He had sighed deeply, picking up the money and replacing it inside his pocket. They had sat in silence for a second after he did it, and Kondou had taken a sip of his tea. 

Chizuru had turned to the open doors, thinking of the freedom Kondou had laid out for her. The husband. The children. To find and marry someone - someone Matsumoto-sensei knew, probably. A merchant, or a son of someone slightly important, or a shopkeeper. They would marry and have a simple life. She would cook, and they would have two children, or three, or five. She would love each of them dearly, and he would teach their sons his trade, and she would raise her daughters to be kind and intelligent. And they would grow old, their hair greying and their faces wrinkling. Their eldest son would take over the store, or the government position, and the daughters would grow up and marry themselves, each to another shopkeeper or slightly important son. And she would never again see Saito. 

Chizuru had noticed that the trees before her had grown blurry, and she had quickly fought to suppress the tears. For a husband, some nameless man in Edo, or Kyoto, would not do. She had known for some time now, and this - the option for that easy future, the simple, idyllic life, where the greatest struggle would be that day's mending, or the next day's cleaning - it would never be hers. She would not marry anyone else. She loved Saito.

Kondou, sitting next to her, had remained entirely unaware of the silent thoughts of his companion. After several minutes, Chizuru had straightened, bowed politely, and left Kondou to his thoughts and his tea, returning to her room to compose herself. For the man whom she loved still was not speaking to her. 

And so it was with some surprise that she heard footsteps outside her door one evening. She had been mending something, some piece of clothing - she could not remember what. 

"Yukimura." Her needle had stopped in the fabric. For, of course, only one of the captains still addressed her formally, despite the four years, despite the kiss, despite the thousand small ways she had declared her love to him with words, with tea cups, with just a look in his direction. "I apologize for the intrusion. May I come in?"

"Of course, Saito-san." Chizuru had put aside the clothing, only just remembering to remove the needle in case something snagged, as he entered.

Saito had looked, on the whole, the same as ever. "I know it is late."

"It's fine." Chizuru had smiled slightly at him to mask the sudden churn of fear that rolled in her stomach. "I'm still awake. Please, sit."

Saito had nodded once and sat down. The cicadas hummed just outside her door, breaking the silence between them. Saito had been staring at the ground between them, and something had told Chizuru it would be a long time before he spoke. She had braced herself for the wait by picking up her mending again, though her fingers had shook and made her needle miss its mark every so often.

He had proved her correct by speaking only once she had almost completed her work. "I wanted to apologize."

"Apologize? You don't have anything to apologize to me for," Chizuru had said, surprised. She had lowered the clothing into her lap once again. 

"I… do." Saito had looked strained. "When you…"

Chizuru had caught his train of thought effortlessly. He was apologizing for the blood. For what he thought had been his fault. "No, I told you it was my decision."

"I should never have…" Saito had broken off. His head had lowered slightly, as though he could not look at her, though his words had remained audible. "Been so weak."

"It… You are not weak, Saito-san." Chizuru had stared at him, daring him to look up and see how earnest she was. When he had not lifted his head, she had continued. "If anything, I should apologize to you. I - I forced it upon you. It was… It was really my fault."

"No." Saito had looked up. "Yukimura, you -" 

"It was my decision." Chizuru had crossed her arms and attempted to mimic Hijikata's stern expression. Saito's eyebrows had raised slightly and she had immediately felt foolish. "Saito-san, I mean… Please, don't..."

Saito had finally stopped her from trying to think of what to say by clearing his throat. "I am sorry, regardless."

Chizuru had sighed. "Then… I accept your apology."

Saito had nodded once. She had picked up the needle again, all fear gone from her. For this apology - it meant that he did not hate her. Her shoulders were loose, relieved, and her hands were no longer shaking, and so Chizuru had easily completed the final stitches and tied a knot in the thread to keep it from unravelling. 

"Why did you…" Saito had spoken again, barely above a whisper.

She had set the clothing down on her lap once more, looking at him. Saito had not met her eyes. "Saito-san… If you don't drink blood..." 

Chizuru had been unable to finish the sentence. They both knew what happened to Furies when they were incensed with bloodlust. Wide, unseeing eyes. Cackling laughter. Chizuru had shuddered, then, despite her best efforts, at the image of Saito in the same state. For that could never happen. She would never let it happen.

"I…" Saito had swallowed. Chizuru had waited. He had suddenly looked up at her. "Yukimura, do not do that again."

Chizuru had blinked, and then shaken her head. Her mind had been made up. "No."

"What?" Saito had looked as though she had smacked him.

"I said no, Saito-san." Chizuru, in an effort to appear nonchalant, had folded the clothing and began to busy herself with putting away her needle and thread in her small sewing kit.

"You -" Saito had broken off. "No. Yukimura, you will not do that again."

"Yes, I will." Chizuru had leveled a glare at him, and once more, Saito had paused, thrown off balance. For she had never been so blatantly stubborn before.

"But -" 

Saito had had no chance. Chizuru had cut him off. "I will continue to do so, Saito-san, even if you ask me not to."

"Yukimura." His voice had been almost disbelieving.

"I want to help you." Chizuru had continued to stare at him firmly. "And only blood relieves the bloodlust. And my cuts heal so quickly, it doesn't matter."

"It… How can it not matter?" Saito had asked, his expression slightly pained. "Yukimura, I -"

"No, it doesn't matter." Chizuru had shaken her head firmly at him. "And, Saito-san, please tell me if you're in that state again."

"I refuse." Saito had responded almost mechanically.

"Then I'll just have to be at your side the whole day so I can be there if it happens." Chizuru had folded her arms.

"What?" Saito had once more blinked, bewildered. She had never seen him so… discomposed. "Yukimura. Stop this."

"I won't." Chizuru had mentally dug in her heels for the fight. "You won't win this, Saito-san. I refuse to make you suffer this alone."

Saito had merely stared at her for a few seconds, and then he had shook his head, closing his eyes. "You…" When he had opened them again, he had spoken. "Why?"

The word had been a real question, this time, and Chizuru had realized that this time, unlike a fortnight ago, he had wanted an answer. But she could not tell him the truth. Or perhaps she could. She had not known what she would say until she had opened her mouth. 

"I… Saito-san, I want to be at your side." Chizuru had steeled herself. "I… I want to be with you, not just because you - because you drank the Water of Life, or because my father made it, but because -"

"Stop." Saito had, once more, held up a hand, his eyes turned from her as though he could not look upon her.

"No," Chizuru had said, tears suddenly gathering in her eyes, "I won't! Saito-san, I -"

"Do not continue!" Saito's voice had risen slightly above a normal speaking tone, and his tone had been as harsh as granite under her fingers. 

Chizuru had burst into tears. There was no other word for it than 'burst,' for she had been entirely unable to prevent herself from crying - it was as though something in her had broken, some dam that she had built the past two weeks to prevent the tears that it now could no longer keep repressed. 

"Yukimura." Saito's voice was quiet, almost apologetic. "Yukimura, I…"

Chizuru had hunched away from him, hands covering her face as she continued to sob. 

"Please." Saito had, for his part, apparently inched closer to her, for his hand had suddenly come to rest upon her shoulder. 

"Don't," Chizuru had managed to choke out, and Saito's hand had retracted as though he had been burned. 

The only noise in the room had been her shuddering sobs. Minutes passed, but Saito had not moved. Chizuru finally came to the conclusion, confused by the deluge of her emotions, that she had already had the worst occur, anyways, and thus she would finish her piece. For he had already essentially rejected her. He had rejected her push to help him. He had refused to let her speak, though it was likely clear to him where she had been going. Chizuru bit back another sob and took a breath to compose herself. Wasn't this what women in stories did? They confessed their undying, unrequited love, and then maybe they killed themselves, or they ran away, or their lover finally realized their love for them. Chizuru had known, as she thought these things, that her thoughts were confused, but her mind had already been made up. She would speak. 

She had lowered her hands from her face and looked at Saito. His expression had been almost blank, though parts of her vision were blurry due to the tears still clinging to her lashes. Chizuru had been unable to stop the tears from falling from her eyes at his face - the face she loved, and the one who, despite everything, apparently had no place for her in his life. "I - I love you, Saito-san. Please… just let me say it."

Saito had not moved for a full three minutes, and Chizuru had silently continued to cry for everything that she had wanted that she would not have. 

"Yukimura." Saito's voice was barely a whisper. 

"I'm sorry." Chizuru had suddenly bent over, driven by the sudden press of her emotions. Her words were watery with tears. "I'm - I'm sorry I'm such - such a burden to you, and I'm so-sorry that - that - that this is s-such a - a - a b-burden to you -"

"Stop this." Despite the words, his voice had been gentle, and his hands, when they had lifted her upright, had been as well. "Yukimura, please stop talking."

Chizuru had bit back another sob at his words, recoiling away from him.

Saito had suddenly placed his hands on either side of her face. "Look at me."

"N-No." Chizuru had made an effort to turn away again, still unable to open her eyes and look at him, but had frozen when his - when he -

For her thoughts had ground to a halt for the short time that his lips had moved against hers, and then everything had shot forwards again as shock flew through her like a current's rapid undertow. Chizuru had sat, frozen, dumbfounded, as Saito had stared back at her, his face only inches from hers. 

"Y-You." Chizuru had been unable to say anything else.

Saito's voice had been firm and quiet. "Please, let me apologize."

Chizuru had sat, frozen.

"I…" Saito had looked away from her for a second. "I… am not… You should not…"

His words had trailed away, and Chizuru had been unable to think straight, despite the length of time he sat in silence, in thought. He had kissed her. But he had not wanted her to say that - that she -

"Yukimura, I am not the man you think I am." Saito's voice had become firm once again. "I am a Fury. I am a captain of the Shinsengumi. I am fighting in a war. You should not… you should forget me."

"You… kissed me." Chizuru would be embarrassed by those words, later, but at the time they had been the only thing she could have said.

Saito had, unexpectedly, reddened instantly. He had cleared his throat. "That… was -"

"A mistake?" Chizuru had asked, miserably, hopes dissipating at his pause.

"No." Saito had quickly shook his head. "No - Yukimura - I… I did so because I…" His face had once more reddened, and Chizuru had blinked in surprise. Saito had apparently been unable to continue, his eyes once more avoiding hers.

Chizuru had blinked. He - did he truly - had he kissed her because he wanted to? Chizuru had paused at the thought. But - in all honesty, could there be any other reason? Why else, in that moment, would he have done so?

Saito had gathered himself and begun to speak. His eyes had been closed, as though bracing himself. "I - I have not acted as I would have liked to. I have been… I have not acted honorably to you, Yukimura. I should not have… stopped you from speaking."

"Twice." Chizuru had been unable to stop herself, thinking of the moment in the room after tea, after Saito had returned from the Guard of the Imperial Tomb.

Saito's eyes had opened, surprised, before he looked away from her again. "…Yes. Twice." He had paused once more. "I owe you an apology. Please, forgive me."

"Of course I forgive you, Saito-san." Chizuru had shaken her head. 

Saito had taken in a slow breath and released it equally slowly. "I did not… I…" He had shut his eyes.

Chizuru had felt, somehow, in his silence, that her words had made the love he already knew existed all too real. Somehow it had become something he had had to confront. And - for whatever reason, and she could think of several (his position, the war, her demonic heritage) - he had not wanted to do so. 

"Saito-san." Chizuru had placed a hand on his hand, which was tightly curled into a fist upon his thigh. "Please. I forgive you. And - and I… I am sorry as well."

Saito had not moved for a moment, and then his hand had turned under hers, his fingers curling around hers hesitantly. Chizuru had responded by curling her fingers around his, and so they held hands, somewhat awkwardly, neither of them exactly meeting the others' eyes. 

And then, to Chizuru's utter horror, a voice had spoken from right behind the sliding door.

"Chizuru, are you all right?" Shimada's voice cut through the air like a dagger, and Chizuru had almost choked on air. She had attempted to pull her hand from out of Saito's almost by instinct, but Saito's grip on her had not budged. His expression had been almost blank, eyes trained on the closed sliding door behind her.

"Ah -" Chizuru had made an odd spluttering noise, entirely uncertain how to proceed. "I - I'm fine, Shimada-san!"

"I heard voices, and so late at night." Shimada had sounded more uncertain, and Chizuru had darted a look at Saito, only to find that he was still looking, perhaps in thought, at the door.

"Shimada," Saito had said flatly. He had stood up, releasing her hand, and she had quickly retracted it into her lap, despite the fact that Shimada would have been entirely unable to see it.

"Saito-san." Shimada's voice had been audibly surprised, and Chizuru had shrunk into herself. It was an odd occurrence, for a captain to visit her room. And it was late at night. And Chizuru had felt uneasy. For the Shinsengumi did not look kindly on… relationships.

"Yukimura, I should go." Saito had looked at her for a second, his face expressionless. Though she searched his face for something - anything - Chizuru saw nothing. 

"R-Right." She had bowed quickly, and Saito had left the room, leaving her with her thoughts scattered. What would Saito say? Would he have to say anything? It was not as though he had something to confess, but all the same, she felt illicit somehow - as though Shimada's intrusion upon their time together had made it explicit how carefully she attempted to keep it hidden from the Shinsengumi. 

Somehow, all her time with Saito had been so separate from the rest of the Shinsengumi - with perhaps the exception of Harada, who had now long since left, and whose letter she still kept in her small chest of possessions. But no one else had come by her room that night, and Chizuru had fallen eventually into a restless sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this chapter rushed? Idk.
> 
> In other news, this fic is still Not Dead Yet.

Chizuru, it turned out, would never learn what transpired that night, or if indeed there was anything for Saito to say at all. For the next day, around midday, they had found themselves surrounded by imperial troops, forced to leave Hijikata and Kondou behind. 

In the frenzied minutes, between Hijikata and Saito arguing about who should stay behind, Kondou had pushed something into Chizuru's hands. 

"You can't say no now, Chizuru-chan." Kondou's smile would stay for the rest of her life, Chizuru had known even then - the patient, kind smile as it seemed nothing would go right. She had seen the look in his eye and nodded, taking the money pouch with no complaint. There was no way to say no to a man she could not be sure she would see again. To not accept his kindness, offered even as his life was in danger, would have been despicable. 

But later, hiking silently through the forest with Saito, Shimada, and the remainders of the Shinsengumi, Chizuru had felt the pouch weighing on her. She had been tired, surely, but it had been more than that - the weight of the knowledge that, even in his last moments, Kondou had been so certain that this was not the place for her. 

And perhaps it had not been the place for her. It had been chilly, that night, and Chizuru had felt her hands grow numb until she had thrust her hands into the opposite sleeves to hold her elbows, attempt to warm up her rigid fingers. She had wearied easily, and would have nearly tripped several times if Shimada had not been there to hold her upright. Her legs had burned, her lungs had burned, and her sandals had rubbed her feet raw. Though she had marched with soldiers many times before, she had not felt so out of place until then. Every step made the pouch against her waist hit her leg with a clink, and each clink had sounded of a quiet future, with a quiet man at her side, where she did not march through day and night with no rest in the foreseeable future - and with every beat of it against her leg, that future felt all the less possible. The soldiers had been muttering all through the march - nothing loud enough for her to hear, or intelligible through the crackle of undergrowth they stepped through, but ominous, somehow. The leaders were gone - it was Saito alone, now, who had to lead them.

The weight of leadership, perhaps, was not as heavy on Saito's shoulders as her own, tiny, pouched burden on herself. Saito strode always several paces before her, straight-backed and silent as ever. Despite the absence of the men he had followed for years, there was no hesitation in his step. Saito had always done well following orders. This duty, this leadership role, she had supposed, had also been an order. Perhaps that was how he could keep walking so steadfastly, though her eyes had longed to shut, and her legs had yearned to cease moving.

When they had finally stopped to make camp for the night, Chizuru had sat slowly down, tucking her legs underneath herself and permitting herself one loud, indulgent sigh of relief to sit. Shimada quickly retired for the night after he had set up the small fire outside the captain's tent, and Saito had wandered the camp quietly for a few minutes before returning to kneel by the fire. 

Chizuru's eyes had been closed, mind practically blank with exhaustion, when Saito had spoken.

"What did Kondou-san give you?"

Chizuru had blinked her eyes open to see Saito looking at her pocket, which had bulged given the size of the pouch within it. She had not realized he had noticed Kondou's actions, somehow, even over his argument with Hijikata. "Oh." She had quickly placed her hand over it, and it had clinked slightly. 

Saito's eyebrow had raised slightly at the unmistakable sound. "Money?"

"Um." Chizuru had flushed, though she had known she had done nothing illicit to acquire the money, and indeed had even turned it down. "He, um, was being kind, I think."

Saito had not said anything after that, merely looking somewhere slightly beyond her, as though doing so would have allowed him to understand Kondou's reasons for the gift. 

Chizuru had shifted slightly, uncomfortable that perhaps Saito thought she had asked him for money. "Kondou-san… he wanted to, um. Pay me."

Saito still had remained silent. Chizuru knew she did not have to continue, but she did all the same, some mixture of weariness and repressed emotion spurring her on. "I… turned it down earlier. And he told me I couldn’t - I couldn’t do that again, this time."

"Pay you for your work?" Saito had asked. The words, though clearly a question, were missing any other discernable emotion.

"I - I told him I didn't need it - that I wanted to stay here." Chizuru had frozen after the words had left her mouth, realizing she had not intended to say the second part. 

Saito's eyes had widened only slightly, and then he had turned to look at the fire. The sparks flickered in his eyes, and the shadows it danced across his face made his expression unreadable. "I see. Kondou-san was concerned for you."

"Well." Chizuru had not been sure how to respond to that, for it had been true. But it had seemed more than that, too, at the time. As though Kondou had thought the Shinsengumi a bamboo cage, and she the unwilling, silent songbird.

"He wants you to leave and start a life somewhere safe." Chizuru had startled at Saito's words, which once more lacked emotion. 

"That…" Chizuru had been surprised that Saito had discerned the meaning behind the gift so quickly. "I… suppose that was, um, part of it."

"He is right." Saito had not looked at her: all she had seen was his profile, the shadows flickering across his face and resting in the purple bruises beneath his eyes. The sudden stab of pain in Chizuru's chest had felt so real that she actually had touched her breast, as though to ensure no Imperial soldier had silently gored her, though she had been entirely sure she knew why she was in pain. Saito, too, had wanted her to leave. He, too, found this place unsuitable for her, even 

"No." Chizuru had steeled herself, looking at the ground. "I told Kondou-san that I wanted to stay, and he let me."

Saito had not responded to that, as though he thought the words were unworthy of response. Chizuru had wrestled with the emotions within her, which were somehow both dulled and exacerbated by her exhaustion. And so it was only when Saito had made a restrained, choking noise that Chizuru had looked up, shocked, to see that Saito was gripping his throat with a hand and holding up himself with another. 

"Saito-san!" She had immediately ran to his side, and he had lilted to the side slightly as though it would prevent her from seeing his face. The tension in his shoulders, however, was more than enough to tell her that he was in pain. "Is it…" 

Even though she had not been able to bring herself to say 'bloodlust,' the sudden whitening of Saito's hair below her had made it clear. Chizuru had pulled him upright with a strength she truly had not known she had possessed after walking so far and supported him, his arm slung loosely over her shoulder, into the woods so no wandering soldier's eyes would see him. She could feel his muscles, taut against her, and every painful wheeze he made rang loudly in her ears. Once they had stopped, far enough away from camp that she could no longer smell the smoke from the fire, Saito had made a motion to release himself from her. Chizuru had not budged, keeping her hands around his back, still gripping the hand she had slung over her shoulders.

"Yukimura." Saito's tone had been low, strained. "Leave me." 

"No." Chizuru had let go of him, then, and Saito had quickly stepped away from her, backing several paces up until his back hit a tree trunk. "I'm staying, Saito-san. I - I can't leave you here."

Saito had shaken his head wordlessly, bending over slightly in pain, clearly bracing himself against the tree to stay upright. His white hair was a sharp contrast to the forest, blackened by shadows.

"Th-There's only one way to relieve it, Saito-san." Chizuru had felt the rush of heady horror give way once again to an odd calm. "I - I know you don't want to, but I - I insist."

She had drawn her short sword. Saito had made a horrified noise, his words choking as he instinctively grabbed at his throat. She had lowered the blade to her hand, and Saito had suddenly sprung before her, close enough she could see the sweat on his brow. He grasped her hand with surprising firmness. "No."

"You need blood," Chizuru had said, meeting his eyes desperately. Saito had looked away, but his eyes had betrayed him - the red irises that ringed his pupils had shrunk as she had spoken. Animals and humans both, her father had told her, betray desire or the urge to attack in the same way. She had waited for him to remove his hand.

"Let me," Saito had said after a second of pained breathing. Chizuru had blinked, but before she had known what was happening, he had deftly relieved her of her short sword and had walked carefully beside her, hovering just behind her. Chizuru had waited, holding up her hand. Saito's hand had gently pushed her arm down. "I'll… find a place." 

Deprived of sight, Chizuru had felt the hairs on her neck prickle before Saito's hand slowly tucked her loose hairs behind her ear. She had shivered, but had not moved; she had prepared for something without knowing what. And then pain sliced her earlobe, sharp and quick. Chizuru had sucked in a breath, feeling the worst was over. 

But nothing, exactly, had prepared her for his lips upon her. Chizuru had fought the shiver but lost the battle - the sensation was entirely foreign - his mouth on her, warm and wet, with gentle pressure from his lips and teeth, the quiet noise of him swallowing. Her eyes had shut at some point, though she had no memory of closing them, and Saito's hand had moved upwards to grasp her head and hold her against him, but it did not feel cruel - his fingers had laced through her hair, and somehow it felt intimate. 

She had felt like the moment had lasted forever - her heartbeat racing, the pull at her ear, the warmth of his breath ghosting over her neck. His other hand had trailed from her shoulder to the crook of her elbow, and she could feel the shortening distance between their bodies - the way Saito's chest and legs were so close to her own. A slow unfurling of something warm and pleasurable was sliding through her lower abdomen, something making her head dizzy and breath short. And then his lips had left her ear, his final shaky exhale loosed across her neck, making goosebumps rise across it before he pulled away. His hand had unwound from her hair slowly, and then he was entirely separate from her once more. The whole side of her head felt cold at his absence. 

There had been silence for several minutes. The noise of the cicadas, which had been entirely lost in the rush of Saito's presence so close to hers, became audible to Chizuru once again. Saito had not stepped away from her. The short sword, she had noticed in the quiet interlude, had been discarded on the ground. She had not remembered hearing it drop. 

Saito had spoken first. She had been glad for it, and for the entirely calm tone of his voice, as though nothing more meaningful than a passing comment on the weather had occurred between them. "I… apologize, Yukimura."

"I offered," she had said, priding herself on the way her voice had remained steady, despite the way her heart was still pounding, the way her ear still felt hot.

"It is not…" Saito had let out a slow breath. "I…"

"I want to help you, Saito-san, in - in any way I can." Chizuru had reflexively touched her ear, as though it would make the phantom feeling of his lips on her disappear. The cut had already closed. "And… it's healed already."

"Kondou-san is right," Saito had said, and she felt him, more than heard him, step away from her, for though the shift of cloth and clink of his swords accompanied his action, she felt more the loss of presence at her back.

"How -" Chizuru had been shocked, pulled from exhaustion to pain to fear to something in between pleasure and discomfort that she had resolutely avoided thinking about, to the sudden return to the beginning of their conversation, as though nothing had just passed between them, alone in the woods together in the dead of night. 

She had taken a deep breath. Sharp words were not always effective. "Saito-san, that is my decision."

"You are in danger." 

"I need to stay, Saito-san." Chizuru had turned, finally, to look at him, and had seen for a second a remarkably vulnerable expression on his face before it had immediately shuttered into the calm, blank visage he normally wore. She had pulled at her ear almost unconsciously. "Don't - don't you see? I need to stay."

"Do not stay on my behalf." Saito had been suddenly very vehement. "I am perfectly able -"

"I'm also staying because I want to," Chizuru had interrupted. "I want to stay. I told Kondou-san that when we spoke and it was the truth." 

Saito had not said anything more to that. He had bent slightly to retrieve her short sword and handed it to her. His eyes were once more deep blue, so dark as to be black. "You should sleep, Yukimura. We leave at dawn."

Chizuru had opened her mouth to say something more - to protest, to yank him towards her and kiss him - and the sudden, shocking foreignness of that thought had stopped her from action. Saito had apparently not minded or not noticed her freezing in place, for he had turned and walked back to the camp without any more words. Chizuru had shivered, feeling the cold air against her neck and ear, which both felt more sensitive than before. Any thought of treating the action like a dose of medicine was no longer possible. She rubbed her ear vigorously, as though the commonplace action could stop herself from feeling his mouth moving against her, the slow unfurling of something heated in her. She flushed, and waited a few minutes more in the woods, letting the cold wind and quiet cries of the forest soothe her, before walking to the camp once again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Dead Yet 2: This Story's Still Kicking

The wind had been brutally cold and relentless, spurring them on each day. She had awoken on the second night to a horrifying howling noise, something like a woman's scream from far away, and startled up. Only Saito's quiet reassurance ("It's the wind, Yukimura,") had eased her back to the ground, back into a restless sleep. All the same, the men had muttered the next morning of yurei, demons, something creeping across the ground in the night.

Shimada had mostly kept her company during their marches, as Saito walked faster than she could. Despite the man's presence, and despite the relatively active life she had kept up in Kyoto after initially being allowed out of the compound, her legs were burning by the end of the second day and seemed to seize beneath her on the third. She had not begrudged Saito his distance from her, given the situation. The close proximity of so many men to them had forced a silence between them. Chizuru could not decide if it was one she was grateful for. 

Shimada would occasionally remark about the passing wildlife, and Chizuru had responded politely when he had raised conversation, but in the end, the majority of the walk had allowed Chizuru to think, and think, and think. The money in her pocket felt like a grinding stone, like a boulder. She had heard, once, of men weighed down with stones to hide a body in a river (she thought, in retrospect, given the horrifying nature of the story, that Okita had probably told it), and she found she empathized. There was something about the money that seemed cursed. It reminded her every day of what the men around her saw her as - a bird to fly free. A girl who needed a dowry. A woman who wanted to be safe.

And she did want to be safe. She had dreamed on the marches of folding laundry. Going to the river and scrubbing clothing clean. Cutting vegetables into neat lines. Sweeping the grounds at the Nishi Honganji temple. Simple tasks. Tasks taken for granted. Tasks meant for a wife, and not a soldier: for it was the former, and not the latter, which she had been instructed upon her whole life. She had dreamed of something fragile, ephemeral - the thought of making food for the man who strode at the front of their party, of telling him 'welcome home' as he walked in the door. She had dreamed this for seconds only, for the situation's incongruity with her dreams stung painfully sharp. And yet the few days had felt like months, and so she had dreamed of softer things than the biting cold: bed linens tucked neatly into cupboards, the rattling sound of a sliding door, the way the light rose on her house in Edo, all those years ago. She had woken up with her father's name on her lips, his face disappearing like the morning fog in the wind. Safety.

Though she had known she should be stronger, though she had longed to be as alert as Saito (and as alert as she imagined he desired her to be), the mountains, their marches, were treacherous. The wind had chapped her lips and made her eyes water. She had blisters, calluses, bruises on her back where rocks had dug into her flesh in sleep. Chizuru had given up, really, on keeping her hair neatly tied, as the wind caused it to lash her face. But Saito had barely seemed to notice the wind, or the bruises, or the marches, and so the men kept moving.

On the fourth day, halfway through a thin mountain pass, Hijikata and Heisuke had met up with them once more. The news of Kondou's capture had caused Chizuru to sit down suddenly, as though the bones in her legs had ceased working at this final, horrible truth. Saito's expression had flickered only for a second, in which he had looked away before finally nodding to tell Hijikata he understood. It was, however, the rest of the conversation that was more concerning, in the long run, to Chizuru.

"Sannan was the one who tipped them off," Heisuke had said, his voice serious. "I saw him outside the mansion before you left, talking to imperials."

"Sannan," Saito had repeated flatly, his voice almost inaudible over Shimada's loud repetition of the same name.

"I'm not surprised, to be honest," Hijikata had said, mouth curling. "The signs have been there for a while."

"You don't think it was the madness?" Shimada had asked, voice low. Chizuru's eyes had immediately shot to Saito, who had not reacted at the reference to Furies. 

Hijikata's mouth had thinned further. "Who knows. Maybe."

"He's not the same as he was," Heisuke had said, shifting slightly. Chizuru could see from his nervous movement that he was uncomfortable. The madness. But Heisuke had been a Fury for only a few months less than Sannan, and he seemed the same as ever. She had looked to Saito again, but he was unreadable.

"It's our fault," Hijikata had said heavily. "And it's our job to fix it. I'm going to see what strings I can pull in the capital. See if I can get Kondou out."

"You're not joining us?" Shimada had looked troubled at the realization.

"Saito can lead you." Hjikata had nodded at his now-second-in-command. "I trust you with it, Saito."

"Of course." Saito had nodded. "Heisuke will…" 

The question in Saito's words was immediately picked up on and answered by the man in question. "I'm going with Hijikata-san."

"I see." Saito had nodded. 

"We'll see you in Aizu." With that, Hijikata had turned and left. 

And then they had been gone. Saito had set up camp once more, for it had been late, and Chizuru had tended to the fire and campgrounds as she always had. But Saito had found her halfway through her normal ministrations and stopped her.

"Yukimura." 

"Yes?" Chizuru had looked up from the congealing gruel on the fire that she had been attempting to water down. Saito had stood just above her, face betraying no expression.

"Will you speak with me for a moment?"

She hadn't hesitated, even though the request was odd after days of relative silence. "Of course."

Saito had walked to the camp's edge, paused as though to speak, and then had walked through the forest a little past their encampment. Chizuru had not thought twice before following. They had gone several yards until the woods cleared out on a small ridge where the mountains dropped down into a cavernous yawn. Saito had walked up to the ridge, surveying the mountains silently. Chizuru had hardly had time to marvel at the oddity of it all - pulling her away from camp in a fairly visible way, bringing her somewhere private - before Saito had begun to speak.

"You have been with the Shinsengumi a long time."

Chizuru had felt her stomach drop uncomfortably, hearing the ending of his speech before he had started it. "Saito-san, I don't want to leave."

Saito had not looked away from the view, from the rolling trees and rocks below them. "You should not desire to be here."

Chizuru had drawn herself upright. "That is not -"

"But that…" Saito had hesitated after cutting her off. "That - Yukimura, I am not… That is not why I wanted to speak with you."

"Oh." Chizuru had felt small, suddenly, felt heat rush to her cheeks. She had carefully walked up next to him, staying slightly further from the edge of the ridge, but close enough to approximate an apology. "I'm sorry."

"You have been with us a long time," Saito had said, as though nothing had happened. His eyes were still on the horizon. 

"Yes." Chizuru had waited. Sometimes, with Saito, it was the silence that mattered. The time he took to arrange his thoughts. And the view, she had thought, was beautiful.

"Sannan," Saito had said, his voice only slightly quieter. "He has changed."

Chizuru had felt the weight of those simple words. Betrayal, as piercing as a sword to bone. "Yes."

Saito had moved to look at the ridge below them by the time she had the courage to look up at him once more. "The madness took him as well."

And Chizuru had understood his unspoken question. "It could be, Saito-san, that - that whatever resentment Sannan-san was harboring - after his injury, I mean - was made worse."

"By being a Fury," Saito had finished the thought without emotion. 

Chizuru had floundered slightly. "Well, Heisuke-kun - he's doing well."

Saito had not responded to the comment. 

Chizuru had pressed onwards. "If Heisuke-kun is fine - maybe it's just the resentment that made Sannan-san betra- I mean, do what he did." 

"Betray," Saito had said simply, "is the right word."

Chizuru had not exactly known how to respond to that, and had fallen silent.

"You could be right." Saito had not sounded enthusiastic. "But not a single man who drank the Water of Life has avoided death at the hands of his comrades."

Chizuru had turned away from him reflexively at the cold steel in his voice. The thought of it was - horrifying. White haired men, drinking blood, stooped over the rogue thieves who had tried to steal her sword, that first day in Kyoto. The madness. She had braced herself, looking at the trees, hearing the leaves rustle. 

"It will be the same for me," Saito had said, as though hearing her thoughts.

"It won't be," Chizuru had said immediately, turning around. Saito, too, had turned away from her sometime in the conversation, his eyes on the rocks around them. "Saito-san, it won't be the same."

"You cannot say such a thing, Yukimura," Saito had said, and there was a warning in his voice that Chizuru unthinkingly ignored as she walked up behind him until she could touch his back without stretching out her arm. 

"It won't be the same, Saito-san." Chizuru had met his eyes steadily when he had turned to look at her, his expression stormy. 

"You cannot say it and make it true." Saito's eyes were blue flint. On any other man, it would have been a snarl; on Saito, it was quiet fury. A sudden pressure behind his gaze. Chizuru had fought to keep her expression steady as she looked back at him. 

"I'm not trying to do anything so childish, Saito-san." Chizuru had kept her eyes locked on his, aware that there was more at stake than just a staring contest. "I have faith that you won't be the same."

Saito had made an odd huffing noise, had turned away slightly. When he spoke, his voice was almost bitter. "You think too well of me." 

"I don’t," Chizuru had said insistently, thinking of all the times he had been steadfast when others were not. The way he fought only with his left hand against the disdain of others. His unwavering control over his emotions, his actions. "Besides, Sannan-san was already… Even in Kyoto, he was not happy. Anyone could see."

Saito had not responded to this analysis of Sannan's internal self. 

Chizuru had opened her mouth to continue and then let out the breath of air instead in a thin stream, which clouded white in the cold. 

"You think too well of me. I am not strong." For a moment, Chizuru had thought he had not spoken, and the words were some sort of trick of her ears, the wind forming voices. For he had spoken softly, and the quiet vulnerability in his voice had been something she had thought impossible.

"You… You are strong, Saito-san." He had turned away, and Chizuru had panicked, thinking her pause had convinced him she lied. "You are. You have done so much to prove it."

"If I was strong," he had said, "I would not have needed the Water of Life."

Chizuru had drawn in a sharp breath. Weakness: forever the soldier's fear. "You are strong. Without the Water of Life, and with it. I… I don't know why you drank it in Kofu, but… I can guess. There were so many soldiers, Saito-san. And you drank it knowing the consequences because you are strong."

"That makes no sense." Saito's voice had once more hardened. "As I said, I would have not needed the Water of Life -"

"Saito-san," Chizuru had said sharply, cutting him off, "you've always worn your sword on the right side, even if other people thought it was wrong, haven't you?"

Saito had merely looked at her, and though his face had been blank, she had seen confusion there. She had waited for a response, and finally it came. "Yes."

"You ignored everyone else and you kept your own resolve." Chizuru had folded her arms. "You are strong. Even if everyone else said you were wrong to do so, you still did it." 

Saito had been silent for a moment. "That isn't strength."

"It is, Saito-san." Chizuru had blew out a breath, irritated. "There is more than just fighting strength. Think about Kondou-san… He let himself be captured because of his own resolve to save the Shinsengumi. Isn't that strength?"

Once more the man at her side had fallen silent. 

"Isn't it strength that Yamazaki-san… that he was still so loyal?" Chizuru had not desired to - and had not needed to - fill in the end of her question. He had been loyal until the end. Saito had looked at the ground, understanding.

"You are strong, Saito-san." Chizuru had felt the breeze tug at her sleeves.

The man beside her had not said anything. The wind picked up around them, making her ears sting with cold. She had put her hands under her arms, attempting to warm her fingers with her body's warmth through her clothing. They stood there for several minutes, Chizuru feeling her cheeks and nose redden.

"The march has been hard on you," Saito had said, and once more his voice had been level, devoid of any emotion or weakness. "You should rest."

"I am fine," Chizuru had bit out, finding it harder to distance herself from the worry, the fear, the pressing urge to remind Saito that she had made a choice to stay, and did not regret it. The fact that he had noticed her struggle with the cold, the wind, the blisters, only had served to make her flush with something like humiliation. He found her too weak for her place at his side. Still.

Her sharp tone had made Saito survey her closely, eyes slightly narrowed. She had looked away. "I'm sorry, Saito-san. I really am fine."

"It is important for you to rest." Saito had still been looking at her; she could tell, though she was still facing away from him. "Did you not say something similar to me, once?" 

Chizuru had thought of those days - his candle burning late into the night, the only person awake. "Maybe I'm as stubborn as you." 

He had huffed - almost a laugh, surprising her into turning around again. His eyes had been soft on hers, unexpected after the conversation. "I think you are right, Yukimura."

Chizuru had felt her face flush with something warmer than embarrassment. Saito had almost smiled. "I have to be."

It was silent between them for a moment - just the wind ruffling the trees above them, the sweep of branches in the canyon below them. Saito's voice, when he spoke, was quiet. "I… would like you to not have to be, Yukimura."

She had heard, in his tone, the same quiet sadness as she had heard in Kondou. A kind of mourning for something he thought she could not have. 

"I am happy here, Saito-san." Chizuru had looked at him, and he had met her gaze. "Don't forget that."

He had made a low noise in his throat, something like assent. "So you have said."

"And I mean it." Chizuru had stared out into the sky, into the moon rising. A thin sliver of a crescent, like the most delicate silver hairpin.

"We march to Aizu tomorrow," he had said then, and in his voice had been the quiet steel of the temporary leader of the majority of the Shinsengumi forces. "You should rest."

"I will." Chizuru had turned to head to the camp, and had pulled a real smile from somewhere to give to him. "You should sleep too, Saito-san."

"You forget my stubbornness." She had looked up in surprise to see the tail end of his smile flicker on his face. 

"I will pull you to camp myself," Chizuru had threatened, grin widening slightly. 

He had snorted. "I will walk." 

They had walked together, in the end, almost side by side, and if anyone noticed them disappear and return with no explanation, the camp appeared too exhausted to inquire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lack of romance. War calls.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! Ringing in 2019 with the longest chapter yet.

By the time they had nearly made it to Aizu, it had been July. Chizuru had hardly believed that spring had passed into summer, as it seemed that the frigid air would never stop blowing.

The Aizu troops they had stumbled upon had been focused upon reclaiming Shirakawa Castle. After their band of remaining Shinsengumi had found the Aizu encampment, Saito had disappeared into tent after tent to (she had assumed) discuss strategy. Eventually, she and Shimada and the rest of the men had been graced with the full explanation: Enemy soldiers had already claimed the gate to the castle as their own. And yet Saito and his men had been instructed to go to the front lines to fight. 

The night before they had gone to the gate for the first time had been quiet save the clatter of sword on sharpening stone, the snap of the fire, and the quiet murmur of soldiers' conversations or prayers. Chizuru had made what food she could, trying to still her anxious hands through incessant work. Shimada had briefly stopped beside her to say that it was likely that their leader would be fine, describing Saito as far above the caliber of soldier in the Imperial Army, but his reassurances had fallen on deaf ears. Chizuru had nodded until Shimada had walked away, her mind focused instead on the man who was speaking to his men. For Saito had spoken at length with several of his fellow soldiers before he had finally walked up to her. 

He hadn't spoken as he walked up, but she had been ready for his approach. "Saito-san, will you sit for a while?"

Saito had stood for a few seconds more, as though considering, before shifting himself into a seated position, sword clinking in its scabbard as it hit the ground. Chizuru had removed the pot she had boiled from the fire and had poured a cup of tea, and then another. The first she had offered to Saito, who accepted, and the second she had placed before her. The steam had risen gently off of the cups, and Saito's eyes had seemed caught by the sight. 

"Thank you for the tea." He had spoken quietly, the words pitched low.

"It is the least I can do," Chizuru had said. The fire cracked in front of them. 

Saito had taken a sip and replaced the cup on the dirt before them. The moment had seemed almost bizarre to her after the weeks of walking and walking and falling asleep, exhausted. Despite the tiredness, her body buzzed with energy - anxious energy. Fear. Things she could not say to him rose and fell in her mind, as though the words were caught between her tongue and the roof of her mouth. 

She could not open her mouth, she had felt, or they would spill out - things no soldier wanted to hear. For she had dreamed during their long walks of being a wife and not a soldier, and those thoughts - those of a wife, not of a brother-in-arms - had plagued her. Don't go. Don't leave me here, helpless to do anything but watch. Don't risk your life like this. Don't leave me behind. I love you. I love you. I love you.

No words left her. She took a sip from her cup. The tea was watery and only vaguely herbal. It couldn't be helped given the supplies, but it made for small comfort.

"Be safe tomorrow," Saito had said. There was still little emotion in his voice, but she heard instead his words on the veranda all that time ago, when he had first kissed her (the way he had said, "I never want to be worried about you like that again," the way he had caught her hand between them delicately, fingers encasing her wrist like she was porcelain). 

Chizuru had not dared look up from the fire for fear of tears rising to her eyes. At least if she wept while looking at the fire, she could claim that the smoke had caused her eyes to sting. 

"Yes." 

The words she could not say were deafening in her ears, but with the men around them there was no option. She had drunk her tea, and he had drunk hers, and when he had passed her his cup back, she had only caught his hand in hers for a second more than was acceptable. And then he had stood and walked away. 

Saito had not said goodbye the next morning, and only a few Shinsengumi soldiers had remained with her after Shimada had informed her that she, and the soldiers with her, were to await summons for reinforcements, or a call to provide medical assistance. None had come. That night, the soldiers had returned.

Saito had not looked at her when he had returned, and the blood that spattered his uniform had terrified her until Shimada (who she had now begun to suspect of suspecting her affections) had walked up to her and calmly explained that Saito had left the battle with no reported injuries. She had thought instead of his Fury blood - of the way his wounds could have healed instantly and left no injuries to report. That night, too, Saito had sat beside her at the fire, and Chizuru had done her best to focus only on the thick, woody scent of the fire instead of the sharp tang of blood that now accompanied his presence.

The process had repeated over several days. Saito had not spoken to her much in this time, but had always sought her late at night when she was silently tending the fire. They had sat in silence many nights, and only a few nights did she get him to speak about the battles he had fought during the daylight. Saito only spoke briefly of it, focusing mostly upon the Aizu's bravery in battle. She had recognized his wordless recognition of the death of several of his men from the tension in his mouth, the way that his posture reminded her of their conversation before Toba-Fushimi, now years in the past. Chizuru, for her part, had avoided any discussion of fear, of the crushing weight on her chest in the hours where the sun beat down and she did not see the man who each day she knew could be stripped away from her by the errant swing of a sword. Regardless, even without conversation, she had always made tea.

It had been a relief, then, when the remaining Shinsengumi had arrived, Hijikata at the forefront of the men he led to greet them with a wry smile.

"Saito. Shimada." He had received short nods in return, a broad grin on Shimada's face and an almost-smile on Saito's. "Oh - and Yukimura." Hijikata's eyes had only widened for a second. "You're here."

Chizuru had blinked in confusion. For where else would she be, really? Hijikata and his men had left her while she was on a march, and though they had passed several towns, she had known no one there. There had been nowhere to go. And yet even Heisuke's eyebrows had shot up to see her.

"It's been a while, Hijikata-san, Heisuke-kun," Chizuru had said politely, and bowed, willing to overlook any uncomfortable confusion on Heisuke and Hijikata's faces.

"Ah, yeah," Heisuke had said, bowing slightly himself. His hair had grown out slightly since she had seen him last, its brown tips brushing his collar. "You, um, look well."

"Commander, it is good to have you here." Saito had seemed sincerely happy, in his understated way.

"Yeah." Hijikata, for his part, had smiled - a real smile. "Heard you and the rest were giving the Imperials hell for us, that right?"

Saito had rattled through a brief explanation, summarizing the campaign that had failed for the most part, given the Imperial's position.

Chizuru had finally been drawn back into the conversation when Hijikata had sighed. "We can't stay, though. We're moving to Sendai."

"Sendai?" Saito's eyebrows had risen fractionally. Chizuru had thought of the last time she had seen a map (probably between captains sometime during the early stages of the war), picturing Sendai on the map, looming far to the north.

"That's the order," Hijikata had said, mouth twisting into a smile that was somehow less bitter than Chizuru had remembered.

"The Aizu has ordered a last attack on Shirakawa Castle," Saito had said, as though he had not heard the commander speak.

"I see," Hijikata had said, one eyebrow raising.

"We cannot abandon the Aizu." Saito had suddenly seemed firm, grounded. Resolved. "Commander, without them there would be no Shinsengumi. We owe them a debt."

Chizuru had only slightly believed her ears. Heisuke and Shimada bore similar expressions of disbelief - Saito was disagreeing with Hijikata. Verbally. 

"We're meant to fight alongside Sendai domain in the northeast," Hijikata had said, his voice less firm than resigned. "Straight from the shogunate."

Chizuru had seen Saito's jaw work before he spoke. "You suggest we leave the Aizu behind?"

"Look," Hijikata said, expression darkening slightly. Chizuru had seen her father wear that expression - disappointed parent scolding the misbehaving child. "I'd stay if I could, fight at their side."

"We cannot abandon them," Saito had said - or perhaps, Chizuru had thought, interrupted. His blue eyes had flashed ice. "They risk their lives fighting against the Imperial Army. Fighting at their side is the only way we can repay our debt to the Aizu domain."

Hijikata had blinked several times. "Huh. You're really sure about this." 

"I am certain." Saito had looked at the ground. The others merely stared at him. Chizuru, too, had felt frozen. These words from Saito - she had never heard them expressed, only hinted at. And yet the words suggested something far deeper than she had expected. A soldier's resolve. Something in it sounded like words pulled straight from the code of bushido that Nagakura had always gone on about. A willingness to fight to the death for honor, to repay with blood instead of coin.

"You know how the Satsuma and Choshu feel about Aizu," Hijikata had said. Chizuru had lost track of his words as Hijikata began to outline gruesome ends. Abused corpses. Certain death. Annihilation. The battle of Toba-Fushimi - the fire, the stench of blood, the clash of weapons -arose in her mind. The calls of soldiers, weeping desperately, for water, food, air, lovers, mothers, death, men becoming only agonized screams in the night. 

"I will stay." Saito's words had cut through her horrified thoughts with as much decisiveness as his iai. Another silence had pervaded the group before Hijikata had finally spoke. 

"Well, then." Hijikata had appeared struck almost silent by the words of his second-in-command. "I guess I can't take you with us." 

Chizuru had felt the wind sweep through the group again, freezing despite the sunlight. Despite the daylight, her mind had kept returning to that night in Toba-Fushimi, could only conjure images where one of the broken bodies she had stepped around with Nagakura had been Saito, silent or screaming. 

"Where do the rest of you fall, then?" Hijikata had swept his eyes over the group.

In the end, the group had divided, with Saito on one side and the rest on the other. Chizuru had felt vaguely nauseous as Hijikata's eyes had finally rested upon her. Something in her stomach was churning violently, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it had nothing to do with the meagre meals she had been eating through the war.

"Yukimura, what about you?"

The seconds had felt like minutes. Two lives split before her. Sendai or Aizu. The certainty of surrounding herself with the Shinsengumi or the certainty of the battlefield… and Saito.

"I will stay." 

Chizuru had barely spoken the words before Saito's expression had contorted for only a split second before he had immediately looked at the ground, as though to hide it, and had spoken. "She leaves." 

Hijikata, who had already been thrown by Chizuru's words, had half-turned around at Saito's before looking back at Chizuru. "Look, kid, you heard our whole conversation. Aizu's about to become hell on earth, and you can barely wield your sword."

Chizuru had steeled herself. "I'm staying."

"You're going to die." Hijikata's eyes had bored into hers, flinty and terrifying. But it had been years since she had been properly afraid of the man before her, years since he had leveled his blade in her direction on that very first day in Kyoto, and she stood her ground. "Kid, I'm not joking. There isn't a doubt in my mind you're going to get your ass killed in some horrible way."

"I'm stay-"

"She's going with you, Commander." Saito had turned around as though he was going to walk away. A dismissal. "There is no place for her on this battlefield."

"I'm staying," Chizuru had said firmly, ignoring Saito's words. 

Hijikata had looked between the two of them silently, evaluating the situation, before finally turning back to Chizuru. "You're serious about this?"

"Yes." Chizuru had recalled from somewhere that Hijikata thought it improper when people dropped their gaze when asking something of him, and continued to meet his eyes, hoping her expression said everything she could not. She would not realize until later that she had been clenching her hands into fists, had left small indentations in her palms where her nails had dug in.

The commander, the one whom everyone had called 'Demon,' who had given her cause to fear him - but had let her go on patrols, had found her crying in Kyoto when Saito had left her and had made some attempt to comfort her, had watched over her and kept her safe for years - had been the one to drop his gaze first. He had sighed, something resigned in his expression. "Well. I probably shouldn't ask why." 

Chizuru had continued to look at Hijikata in a manner she thought was decisive, eyebrows furrowed, until he had finally sighed, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Edo women," he had said, almost to himself. 

Despite this, Chizuru had been unwilling to move in case he found it some sort of submission, barely daring to breathe unless the man changed his mind and decided to bodily drag her with him. Hijikata finally had spoken again, this time looking at Saito. "You two should talk this out. You can always catch up with us if you change your mind, Yukimura."

"Hijikata-san." Chizuru had felt a rush of almost heady relief before she had remembered herself and bowed, recognizing his acknowledgment of her decision. "Thank you."

The commander had merely raised an eyebrow at her before almost smiling. "Watch out for yourself, kid." His smile became slightly wider, but his eyes were almost sad. "And maybe watch out for Saito, too, while you're at it."

"Um." Chizuru had ducked her head again, willing her cheeks not to flush, and entirely ignoring Saito. "I will."

As Hijikata had turned to go, Heisuke had spoken. "People've been saying that Sano and Shin are around. Maybe you'll run into them, Chizuru." 

"Oh!" Chizuru had felt her mouth drop open. "I - I hope so."

Heisuke had grinned wryly, tossed his head. "Tell 'em I'm still at it." She had not known if he meant that he was still alive, or still fighting with the Shinsengumi, but she had known not to ask.

"I will." Chizuru had smiled at him until Heisuke's own grin dimmed slightly. 

"Good luck out there, Chizuru." He nodded at her, eyes unexpectedly serious.

"You too, Heisuke-kun." 

And then they had disappeared into the trees, and Chizuru turned to face the man who was still angled away from her. The man she loved. The man who had his eyes half-closed as he looked at the ground, as though he could erase her from the scene entirely.

"Saito-san, please let me speak."

"You need to go." Saito had not turned to look at her fully. 

"I'm staying, Saito-san. Please hear me out." Chizuru had taken a step forward, and had been rewarded when Saito had turned as well to look at her. His eyes had been frigid, as though he looked upon someone else entirely. A kind of cold she had not experienced since the first few times she had seen him had stolen over her. The sense that she could not guess at his thoughts, that she would never know his deepest emotions.

"There is no possible reason it would be wise for you to stay." Saito's voice had been equally impassive as his expression, though she had been able to tell he was angry. His hands were tense, clenched tightly. 

"I have been here all through the rest of the battles," Chizuru had said firmly. "You accepted my decision then." 

"I should not have!" Saito's voice had raised suddenly, and Chizuru had stepped back as though the words had been a physical blow. An expression she had never seen on him had stolen across his face, subtle but present. Self-loathing. He had turned away from her again so that all she could see was his profile. She heard more than saw him take a breath, and the words he had spoken next had been steadier, at a normal speaking volume. "You should have never come here in the first place."

Chizuru had fought the burning in her eyes, had tried to ignore the dismissal that had been all-too-evident in his tone. "I made a decision, Saito-san. And I hope you respect it."

"No one can respect a foolhardy decision." Saito's expression had been mask-like once more, all traces of the previous emotion she had seen stripped from his face and his tone. "I must ask you to leave."

The lack of emotion, Chizuru had found, had been worse than its expression; she could feel the heat rising to her face, the hot rush of tears. She had pressed the urge firmly down. Warriors, and especially Saito, listened better to logic than emotion. "Saito-san, I cannot do that."

"Yukimura, you will leave." Saito had finally looked directly at her once more. The absence of any warmth in his eyes had made her insides twist, her gaze at him falter. "You will be only a burden on this battlefield."

Burden. Chizuru had thought she had been prepared, but the words had echoed their conversation before their departure from the monastery - where she had promised him she would not be a burden - and the tears once more rose to her eyes. "I…"

"You will leave. The Commander will keep you safe." Saito had actually begun to walk away, his boots snapping a twig as he did so. "Goodbye, Yukimura."

"I will stay here," Chizuru had said, and the effort she had exerted to keep her voice level had thankfully been lost on him.

The man had not responded.

"You allowed me to stay, earlier," Chizuru had said, knowing her words would carry to him despite the distance. This time, Saito had paused, though he had not turned around.

"It was a mistake." 

Saito's words, still absent of any warmth, had finally forced her hand. Chizuru had felt the first tear fall, and as though it had allowed her to finally cry, she had broken down. The sound of her sniffling and shaking breaths had been loud and wet, and horrifyingly childish, even to her own ears. Saito's back to her had remained still, but he had not moved to walk away.

"You can't make me leave," Chizuru had said, though her words had been watery. "I won't leave you, Saito-san!" 

"Hurry and go." It had been as if they had been having two separate conversations, in which Saito had been speaking to a different, more reasonable version of herself. 

"I won't go," Chizuru had said, unable to look at him, her voice beginning to waver. "I… I care for you, Saito-san. I…"

The silence between them had been deafening. The wind, for once, had been noticeably absent. Chizuru had felt more tears fall, but gathered herself, willing her voice to be steadier - though when she spoke, it was barely a whisper. "Saito-san… tell me I was not mistaken that you felt the same."

This, finally, had produced a reaction.

"If I did not care for you, Yukimura," Saito had said, turning, (and his eyes had flashed, blue sparks, like the hottest flames she had seen when that building had broken down around her in Toba-Fushimi, and his mouth had curled, angry, hurt), "I would let you stay."

The words had stopped her, and though more tears had fallen, Chizuru's words had suddenly left her. Saito had taken a step towards her, and his arms had twitched slightly as though to gather her in his arms, but he had remained several paces from her, rigid. Chizuru had wrapped her arms around herself, covered her face with one hand as though she could erase the sight of him, standing so far from her, from her memory.

"I cannot bear the thought of your death." Saito's voice had been quiet, barely a whisper. "Yukimura, I… I beg of you. Please go."

"I cannot bear the thought of yours, either," Chizuru had said, finally looking back up at him to see a flash of vulnerability on his face, an emotion, but only fleetingly. "Can't you - can't you see that?" 

Saito had not responded for several seconds, but she had recognized the silence as thought instead of a rejection of her presence. When he spoke, it was quiet. Bitter. "I should not have allowed you to come." 

Chizuru had opened her mouth but Saito had beaten her to it. "In… Kyoto. I should have forced you to go with Matsumoto-sensei." He was looking away from her, towards the ground, his eyes almost shut as though in rejection of his memory.

"But I wanted to go," Chizuru had said weakly.

"And I let you." Saito still had not looked up. "This battlefield… it is not your place."

"My place is with you." Chizuru had been rewarded, finally, with his eyes meeting hers. 

Saito had walked forward until they were less than an arms-length apart. Chizuru had looked up at him, unwilling to move on the chance that, if she did so, he would run, startle like a deer.

"I will die here, in Aizu, most likely." Saito's words were low. "And if you stay, you will as well."

"I… I know." Chizuru had felt another tear fall, but she met his eyes, met the almost blank expression that she knew perfectly, now. "I know that, Saito-san. But I want to stay. Please let me be at your side."

He had been silent, his eyes searching her for something she had only hoped was there. "Saito-san, you told me… you told me you believe in things that do not change." His eyes had widened only fractionally. 

Chizuru had swallowed, but kept going, even as she felt her throat close slightly at the thought of the words she had to say. "I… I don't want to change. I want… to - to be… here." She broke off, the sudden pressure behind her throat closing her vocal cords. She shut her eyes tightly. Her words, when she finally forced them out, were raw from tears. "I… Saito-san. Please let me… please let me be unchanging, too."

She had refused to open her eyes, almost afraid at what he would say. Yet Saito had not spoken. 

Instead, an arm had curled around her, and her eyes had flown open to be confronted with his shoulder, the sudden warmth of his body pressing into hers, and the cold of his jacket buttons against the fabric of hers. Chizuru had wondered if this was a goodbye or an acceptance, but had pulled him to herself all the same, fisting her hands in his jacket.

"I…" Saito's voice was soft, but their closeness caused the words to vibrate through her. "I am not as strong as you think I am."

She had not dared speak.

"Right and wrong… in this case, I…" Saito had paused. "The right decision eludes me."

Chizuru had felt each rise of his chest, could hear the way his heart was beating faster than normal, as though to match the rapidity of her own. His gloved hand was on her shoulder, and his other hand gently rested on her lower back. 

"And if you see me as someone who can protect you here… or as a warrior without flaw - perhaps it is best you go." 

"I… I want to be here, Saito-san." Chizuru had barely trusted her words. She shut her eyes again, feeling the embroidery of his lapel rough on her hands. "I won't go. No matter what happens, I won't see you any differently." 

"If you truly wish it…" Saito had been silent another moment. 

"I do." 

She had felt him take a deep breath. "You are not a warrior. No one could ask you to stay here… where death is not a possibility as much as a certainty."

"Saito-san," Chizuru had said softly, into his coat, "no one is asking me. I am staying here."

"I do not need you for…" Saito had paused. "I can manage being a Fury."

"That's not why I'm staying, Saito-san." Chizuru had shaken her head slightly against him. For he knew she did not merely stay to be some kind of extraneous blood vessel, there for his consumption. He had been avoiding something, and so she had waited, braced herself for the pause that came. Minutes passed, and though the wind had still blown, his heat against her had prevented any of the cold it normally brought.

Finally, he had spoken. "The thought of you seeing me at my worst is an unsavory one." Saito's voice was quiet. 

Worst, Chizuru had thought, could have meant many things. Death. The madness of the Furies. For a warrior, the worst could even mean defeat. All of these things were not things she had ever been able to quite picture as occurring to Saito. And yet that image of Saito, fallen on the ground, sprung to her mind again.

"Saito-san, no matter what happens, I will not see you differently." Chizuru had tightened her grip on him, as though to enforce the seriousness of the claim. "I swear I will stay at your side. Regardless." 

There had been another silence, quiet enough that she could hear him audibly swallow above her. His voice, when he had spoken, had been rough. "You… can still go, Yukimura. Hijikata-san is still close enough."

Chizuru had, for just a second, considered the difference between his actions and his words. The way he had clutched at her while verbally pushing her away. The way his arms still held her in place, firm, unyielding. She had smiled against him. "Saito-san… You already know I won't leave."

His head had bent to her shoulder, his hair falling to graze her face. "Yukimura." The word was almost a whisper, hoarse, and it alone caused heat to flush her face. 

He had raised himself slightly, so their faces were inches from one another. His eyes met hers, and though she knew herself flushed, streaked with tears, eyes puffy and hair out of place, when his eyes had fixed upon her it had made a rush of heat flood her, made her stomach turn. He had leaned even closer, and she had continued to meet his eyes, seeing the way his pupils had blown slightly and his breath had picked up, heat fanning her face. 

And then she had shut her eyes, for his lips had met her own and he was kissing her. She had pulled her hands up to his neck to encircle him with herself, and his hand was on her neck, and the feeling of his thumb brushing her skin made her back arch into him. She had opened her mouth, almost unknowingly, and he had willingly entered, and Chizuru had made a muffled noise at the feeling, something high and breathless, and had felt Saito's lips turn upwards against her own. When they had pulled apart they had both gasped for breath, and Chizuru had been dizzy, the ground unsteady beneath her. 

Neither of them had spoken for at least a minute, Chizuru for giddiness (and Saito, she expected, for something similar), though his mouth was still only slightly upturned, almost the ghost of a smirk. Saito's hands were still on her waist and neck, and though his grip had loosened from the urgent hold he had had on her throughout the kiss, he gently pulled her into his chest once more. 

"This… means I can stay," Chizuru had said, voice almost a question, as she slowly returned to the reality that there was more in the world than the gentle pressure of his hands on her body, and the way his lips had moved against hers. 

She had felt, more than heard, him make the low noise that approximated his laughter. 

"You can't make me go," she had said, almost petulant, feeling her face flush deeper at the noise.

"You are still unchanging," Saito had said softly. His head ducked to hers again, and his lips pressed gently against the side of her head, as though he had nothing else to say.

Chizuru had flushed again. "I hope so."

She felt his lips turn upwards into a smile against her hair. "And so you are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I've always wondered why Saito reacts in the game with curiosity about her decision instead of anger… Like, the girl tells him, "I'm staying" and he's like "???? Why would she want to stay with me?????" Saito is too self-aware, and aware of Chizuru's emotions (in my eyes) to do something like that. 
> 
> So yes, he is angry in this version instead of surprise-that-becomes-irritation. Saito is too perceptive for surprise about her decision. I just can't believe the character who everyone early on in the game describes as careful, good at lying (and thus understanding people), and good at reading people is suddenly struck with shock that she is staying with him. (And even more so in this story, where they've been much more direct with one another.)
> 
> Additionally, I have always wondered why the game never brought back that lovely line Saito has before he leaves about unchanging things!! Ugh. Such a missed opportunity. So I took it… because I feel like Chizuru would have seriously taken those words to heart, and because I believe them to be the real foundation of their relationship.


End file.
